mmsM 

STORY TELONG 



WHAT TO TELL AN 



iiii 



HOWTOTELI^ 





Class _-.--1Ea5A 
Book 2iJ^ 



Copyright JJ". 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



STORY TELLING 

WHAT TO TELL AND HOW 
TO TELL IT 



BY 



"^^^^^uy&^ Yh^^ , EDPs[A LYMAN ) 




CHICAGO 

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

1910 






v^%^ 



Copyright 

A. C. McClurg &. Co. 

1910 



Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England 
Published, Sept. 17, 1910 



THE UXIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 



©CI A 27 1976 



TO 
THE THREE WHO INSISTED 



PREFACE 

^ MHE lost art of the troubadour has been 
*■■ revived in the present day art of the 
story teller; but the story teller, unlike his 
early brotherhood, may not devote all his 
time to the recital of tales merely because 
they entertain. The spirit of education has 
seized him and bound him to service, and the 
delight which all people feel when they listen 
to a story has been made to serve a second- 
ary purpose in kindergartens and elementary, 
schools, in libraries and playgrounds. 

The demand for stories has been carried by 
the children from the school and the library 
to the home, with the result that those who are 
not, like the poet, born to the art, have asked 
of any who would listen, " What shall we tell, 
and how shall we tell it? " 

As will be gathered from the body of the 

book, there is no desire or attempt either to 

train or equip the person who expects to 

become a professional story teller, or to give 

vii 



PREFACE 

new ideas to those already familiar with this 
art. The book is intended for those who, 
untrained, must meet this demand for stories, 
and are at a loss where to find material or 
what to select, and who are limited by small 
library resources. 

The literature on story telling concerns it- 
self, for the most part, with the requirements 
of the kindergarten and earlier grades, and 
very little which is suggestive and helpful 
seems available for the child whose chief in- 
terest is in heroes and adventure. It is this 
child who has been chiefly considered in the 
suggestions for stories to tell which have 
been made in this volume. 

The epic tales, of course, are familiar to 
every one, but their peculiar fitness for the 
needs of the hero-loving boy and girl has 
not been appreciated, and the fact that no 
general use has been made of them, except in 
the case of a few isolated stories, has led 
to the desire to bring them to the attention 
of people who are telling stories. 

The enthusiasm with which the stories, 
one and all, have been greeted, as I have per- 
sonally tested them in schools, libraries in 



PREFACE 

large cities and small towns, churches, settle- 
ments, and with children gathered together 
for social purposes or entertainment, has 
convinced me that they have more than local 
interest. 

My thanks are due the several publishing 
houses who have courteously granted per- 
mission to use the copyrighted material in 

chapters. 

E. L. 

Oak Park, III., July 1, 1910, 



IX 



CONTENTS 

Introduction xiii 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I Responsibility of Society for what 

Children read 19 

II Reading Aloud 31 

Influence of reading aloud ; the " reading story 
hour" in the public library; suggestions for 
books and selections to read. 

III Story Telling 48 

Revival of the art; necessity for training; 
great short stories ; Tolstoy's "Where Love 
Is, There God Is Also" a type; difference 
between text for reading and one for telling; 
selection of stories to tell from the "Jungle 
Books." 

IV Arranging the Program of Miscel- 

laneous Stories 79 

Comparison between the construction of a 
musical program and one of stories; illus- 
trative programs ; stories for a Japanese 
program ; stories for a Spring program. 

V Biographical Stories l62 

Biography a source for stories to tell ; the dra- 
matic element necessary for a good story to 
tell; suggestions for biographies to tell. 

VI National Epic Tales 174 

What is an epic ? Why they are good stories to 
tell. 

xi 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

VII How TO USE THESE Epic Tales . . . 184 

Robin Hood; Roland; The Cid; Frithiof; The 
Odyssey; King Arthur; Rustem; Beowulf; 
Sigurd. 

List of Books suggested for the Story 

Teller 226 



Xll 



INTRODUCTION 

THE fresh appreciation of childhood, 
which is one of the most outstanding 
features of our generation, has brought with 
it a revival of interest in the literary materi- 
als on which the childhood of the race has 
been nourished. At the very moment when 
the outpouring volume of modern writing on 
every theme, coming like a veritable Niagara 
from the press, was in danger of flooding out 
the classics and the earlier folk-lore of the 
world, suddenly the child appears, and with 
insistent persuasion leads us back to the 
morning-time of .literature, where he and all 
who have the childlike spirit must ever love 
to go. 

No movement of recent years is more sig- 
nificant in the field of education than the re- 
vival of interest in story telling as a fine 
art. That delightful occupation which was 
the pastime of motherhood, in days before 
the lives of children were hemmed in by such 
13 



INTRODUCTION 

a multitude of interests — many of them of 
questionable value — has now become a 
serious and impressive vocation, to be fol- 
lowed not only by mothers, but by teachers, 
librarians, and specialists who have brought 
the art to a high level of effectiveness. 

And this enthusiastic labor of the inter- 
preters of great stories takes us back in 
memory to the dawn of that glorious awak- 
ening of the world of which our modern age is 
the fortunate heir. For the forerunners of 
the Renaissance were the troubadours, min- 
nesingers, bards, and minstrels, who aroused 
in the soul of a slumbering Europe the sense 
of nobler living in a time when Church and 
State were both asleep. Are not our story 
tellers, who are calling our age back to the 
poems and romances that nourished the 
strong and adventurous youth of the world, 
the true pioneers of a new revival of learn- 
ing, in which not only the mind and emotions, 
but the social and civic conscience, the will 
and purpose of the race, are to share? 

The telling of noble stories is one of the 
most effective methods of furnishing child- 
hood with the literary materials which all 
14 



INTRODUCTION 

well-informed people must know, and for 
which later years afford so small a margin 
of time. The child wants the story. He 
wants the fairy tale, the world-legend, the 
adventures of the hero of mythology, or of 
his own national experience. He wants the 
story vividly told, with all its struggle, its 
carnage, its cruelty, and its bravery. More 
than this, he wants it always in the same 
form. Once its lilt and rhythm have caught 
his attention, he wants it repeated in just 
that form. To change its sentences, to mod- 
ify its phrases, is to vitiate it in his regard. 
The value of this quality as an aid in the 
memorization of the best literature by the 
child is instantly apparent to those who are 
charged with his training. 

But the ethical value of story telling is 
even more impressive. It is not through 
formal instruction that a child receives his 
impulses toward virtue, honor, and courtesy. 
It is rather from such appeal to the emo- 
tions as can be made most effectively through 
the telling of a story. The inculcation of a 
duty leaves him passionless and unmoved. 
The narrative of an experience in which that 
15 



INTRODUCTION 

same virtue finds concrete embodiment fires 
him with the desire to try the same conduct 
for himself. Few children fail to make the 
immediate connection between the hero or 
heroine of the story and themselves. An ad- 
venture told to a child is never an objective 
thing, but a personal experience as it goes 
forward. The frank generosity of Robin 
Hood, the hardy prowess of the Cid, the 
courageous endurance of Ulysses, the stain- 
less character of King Arthur, are all trans- 
lated by the child into personal qualities of 
his own life, to mar which would be dis- 
loyalty to his heroes. 

It is one thing, however, to have some ap- 
preciation of these facts as aids in the train- 
ing of children, and quite a different thing 
to know where to find suitable material for 
this purpose, and the method by which it 
may be organized for effective use. The lit- 
erature which attempts to give suggestion 
regarding these two problems is rapidly in- 
creasing, as the vital character of the theme 
is perceived. But none of the works thus 
far provided deals with the matter in just 
the concise, direct, and suggestive manner 
16 



INTRODUCTION 

in which the author of this book treats it. 
She comes to her task with the training of a 
teacher, the experience of a librarian, the 
discipline of several years of most successful 
work in the new vocation of a trained story 
teller, and, above all, with the enthusiasm 
which only the lover of a great and inspiring 
work can bring to such an enterprise. 

It is out of such ample store that she 
brings us these things new and old. With 
marked singleness of purpose she has chosen 
a very modest, yet very vital, section of the 
total field in which she is so skilful a worker. 
She has undertaken to provide in the most 
concise manner the very suggestions which 
the parent or teacher, untrained in the tech- 
nique of the art of story telling, needs most 
to know. In so doing she has placed all 
lovers of the child under obligations to her. 
This book will bring to many seekers of the 
inner path to the child life the direction for 
which they have wished. 

HERBERT L. WILLETT. 

The University of Chicago. 



17 



STORY TELLING 

WHAT TO TELL AND HOW TO TELL IT 



CHAPTER I 

RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY FOR WHAT CHILDREN 
READ 

npHE most potent influences in the devel- 
^ opment of the Hfe of the child are ex- 
erted through the home, through educational 
institutions, and through social environment. 
For the first five years of the child's life 
the home has practically exclusive direction 
of his physical life, his moral training, his 
play, or his occupation. An educator of wide 
reputation recently stated that, if at the 
end of the sixth year the child has not ac- 
quired self-control and a fair ability to be an 
agreeable member of society, it is the fault 
of the home. A failure to arrive at such a 
happy state of affairs may be due to economic 
or social conditions back of the home, but 
normally this responsibility for the care and 
training of children lies with the parents. 
19 



STORY TELLING 

At five the school steps in and for several 
hours each day assumes control of the dis- 
cipline and occupation of the child, so that 
the home is no longer entirely responsible 
for its offspring, but divides the responsibility 
with this new agency. Neither school nor 
home alone can now be held accountable for 
what the child becomes, for each has its in- 
fluence, felt not only during the hours of 
its specific environment, but quite as much 
during the period when the child has gone 
out from its immediate dictum. It is for 
this reason that any lack of the spirit of 
cooperation between parents and teachers is 
to be so greatly deplored. If the standards 
and ideals of home and school could be identi- 
cal, no time would be lost in the work of their 
realization. 

No sooner has the school entered into the 
life of the child as a factor in his development 
than we may logically say the third force of 
destiny begins its work. Contact with the ele- 
ments which make the social environment of 
the child becomes an influence to be reckoned 
with as soon as he steps out of the home into 
the world. 

20 



RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 

The life of the street and the playground, 
the influence of employment or recreation, 
help to mould his character as definitely and 
often more unalterably than the precepts of 
the home or the teaching of the schools. It 
makes little difference that society does not 
recognize either its responsibility or its privi- 
lege in thus forming humanity; the charges 
which must be made for certain existent con- 
ditions materially modifying, sometimes alto- 
gether changing the outcome of the child's 
life, can be brought nowhere but to the door 
of society. 

We recognize this fact when we pass laws 
dictating the limitations of employers of la- 
bor, and demanding the freedom from labor 
which is the child's right; in the same way 
society recognizes ats power to provide proper 
conditions for the physical development of 
its children when, through its municipalities, 
it establishes public playgrounds and public 
baths. Specific instances of this character 
seem to awaken the public, so called, to the 
fact that with it lies not only the cause for 
evil conditions, but also the remedy and the 
power to make real the ideals it cherishes. 
21 



STORY TELLING 

We can no longer work upon a basis which 
assumes that the home has to do with one 
part of a child's life, the school with another, 
and which disregards society altogether. So- 
ciety is responsible for the child, and must 
therefore recognize the interdependence of its 
various constituents. 

We have suggested that the constituents of 
society are all accountable for the physical 
environment and condition of the child — that 
they must see to it that men and women are 
produced physically equal to the work of 
the coming generation. If we do not give 
our children proper conditions for living, — 
pure air, pure water, and pure food, — - they 
are not properly equipped to begin the real 
living which is before them. If we fail to 
recognize that play is an essential to their 
normal development, and that, as we cut off 
the opportunity for it, we dwarf the capa- 
bilities of mature life, we have ourselves to 
blame for the type of manhood we supply to 
the world. 

The problem of the proper discipline of 
the child rests with the home while it cares 
for him exclusively, but the school takes 
22 



RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 

charge of him for a large per cent of his 
time during many years of his life, and 
the school must accept its share of the 
burden. 

Once more, society at large is answerable 
for the manner in which the child learns to 
know his relationship to municipality, State, 
and country as they directly or indirectly 
touch his life, and is also to be held account- 
able for its methods of discipline where rights 
and laws have been disregarded. Each and 
all, as members of society, are our brothers' 
keepers ; and lawlessness, immorality, and 
crime may fairly turn to respectable, moral, 
and law-abiding citizenship to inquire why 
they exist. 

In moments of sanity, we all admit that 
education has as its fundamental purpose to 
teach men to live, rather than to help them 
merely to acquire knowledge. Experience is 
the really valuable thing in life, and since it 
is necessary to begin living with a very small 
basis of experience, we gain much if we accept 
that of others, for at least an experimental 
basis. 

It is the wonderful power which books have 
23 



STORY TELLING 

of presenting experience, picturing life in its 
manifold relations and infinite variety, that 
gives their supreme value as a supplement to, 
I might almost say a substitute for, formal 
education. 

The word books is used in the sense of liter- 
ature, and not merely printed pages, and the 
time has come when it is necessary to distin- 
guish in the minds of some between the two. 
As a people we have not outgrown the atti- 
tude of reverence which mere print inspires 
in the minds of the recently educated. We 
have made a fetish of printing ; we have pride 
in our education, but we have not arrived 
where culture takes education for granted 
and discriminates between the ephemeral out- 
put of the press and the book of permanent 
value. 

The home has recognized the value of read- 
ing as a part of the education of the child, 
and has placed him under the jurisdiction of 
the school that he may acquire the mechanical 
ability to read. The question naturally arises. 
What shall he read when he has acquired the 
ability ? — and neither home nor school can 
settle the question finally, because once more 



RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 

the attitude of society enters into the answer 
to the question. 

Society has accepted the public library as 
a solution of the matter and says, " Here is 
an agency which shall represent us, properly 
equipped to meet the problem of reading for 
children, not only by supplying the books, 
but also by making suggestions concerning 
such books, and influencing so far as possible 
the reading taste of the community." 

This solution at first seems all that could 
be desired until we analyze the real conditions, 
and then we realize that it is impossible for 
the library alone fully to represent society in 
these respects, since at the same time society 
is equally responsible for the many other 
agencies for supplying books to the public. 
Under present conditions, the libraries are 
unable to master the situation, for they are 
limited as to funds not only for providing a 
proper number of books, but also for main- 
taining a staff of skilled workers with ability 
to select and recommend the books. 

As long as children eager to read are 
greeted by empty shelves or meagre numbers 
of books in the libraries, society is defeat- 
25 



STORY TELLING 

ing its own claims, and strengthening the 
defeat by offering through regular book 
houses, and other commercial sources, not 
only mediocre books, but books of a posi- 
tively pernicious character. Society allows 
those who control the corner cigar store, the 
general supply store, the news stand, the com- 
mercial circulating library, and those seek- 
ing to make money by appealing to the lower 
instincts of boys and girls to supply reading 
matter for its children; meanwhile congratu- 
lating itself that the establishment of public 
libraries equipped to reach only a small per 
cent of the public cancels its obligations. So- 
ciety is, after all, composed of individuals, and 
it is the attitude and indifference of individu- 
als which create a condition so to be deplored. 
The home and the school are elements of 
organized society, and as such must bear their 
part of the humiliation for the present state 
of affairs; and parents and teachers are as 
much to be blamed for failing to provide in- 
spiring, uplifting, and ennobling books, as for 
failing to supply pure milk for babies or 
proper open-air spaces in which children may 
play. 

26 



RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 

The children of the State are our chil- 
dren, without regard to the fact of parent- 
hood. They are the greatest asset of any 
commonwealth, and as such are to be reared 
in such a physical, mental, and moral envi- 
ronment that they shall come to manhood 
and womanhood, strong and pure in body, 
in mind, and in soul. 

The ideals which children gain from books 
are their constant associates and mould their 
characters even more than human compan- 
ions. They live with them not only while 
they read, but while they are otherwise en- 
gaged; and suggestions so subtle as to pass 
almost unnoticed linger in the mind, to in- 
fluence emotions and express themselves in 
actions. 

Books are the backgrounds of their wak- 
ing dreams, and as surely as children read, 
just as surely do they imitate the heroes whom 
they find in their books. Judgment they do 
not possess, life they do not know, experience 
is all before them, one book is as desirable as 
another, provided only it has the power to 
hold. If we tolerate books where moral cow- 
ardice takes the guise of physical courage, 
27 



STORY TELLING 

trickery and dishonesty seem like cleverness, 
books in which opposition to law and order 
is made to look like heroism, and the great 
facts of life and love something to be con- 
cealed and misused instead of cherished and 
honored, how are we to expect the readers of 
these books to acquire high standards of 
honesty, moral courage, and true manliness? 

If we tolerate even the commonplace 
type of books, lacking in strength and viril- 
ity, poor in presentation, uncertain in moral 
tone, and insipid in character, we can expect 
nothing strong or fine as a result of its 
influence. We are loath to admit this. It 
is far easier to argue against the really evil 
book than against the kind commonly termed 
" harmless." But if surroundings either of 
a material character or of ideas really have 
any influence upon the human mind, then we 
may fairly agree that mediocrity will breed 
mediocrity with as great certainty as evil 
will produce evil. 

Every year public schools are turning out 
thousands of children able to read. They 
may not be attracted to books in general, 
but read they will, sometime or somewhere, 



RESPONSIBILITY OF SOCIETY 

and when that time comes it is society that 
is responsible for what those children read. 

The homes are not equipped to solve the 
matter. The school stands as a strong factor 
in influencing the character of what the child 
reads, but it is so occupied with the accom- 
plishment of tasks that these come to be the 
significant thing. Many teachers are famil- 
iar only with the literature which relates to 
the grade they teach, and do not see how 
vital it is to make each grade a link in the 
great chain of what has gone before and 
what is to follow. 

While parents remain unconcerned as to 
the relative importance of carefully selected 
clothes and thoughtfully selected books, 
while schools lay emphasis on the side of 
education which will bring the most rapid 
return in dollars and cents, it would seem 
that the library, that agency of society most 
alert to the necessity of cultivating a love 
of literature in children, must make a greater 
effort to solve the problem of reaching larger 
numbers and effectively introducing them to 
the world's great books. 

The call of the child's need has been heard 
29 



STORY TELLING 

by a very few ; by them it must be answered, 
while they in their turn cry aloud to the 
great body of society of which they are but 
a part, " Our children cry for bread ; will 
you give them a stone? " 



30 



CHAPTER II 

READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 

Influence of reading aloud ; the " reading story hour " in the 
public library; suggestions for books and selections to 
read. 

TN the good old days, to which occasionally 
■*" we must hark back, in spite of the fact 
that the home was the field of more varied 
occupations than at present, and that it was 
impossible to command much assistance from 
outside, there must have been a leisure of 
mind which is almost unknown to us now. 
[Whether it is the greater ease with which we 
are conveyed fron^ one spot on the earth to a 
far distant one, and the rate of speed which is 
ours to command, that has affected our men- 
tal attitude so that we feel the necessity of 
equal rapidity in all we do, certain it is that 
things which once had a place in our lives 
are now crowded out on the plea that there 
is no time for them. It is to be greatly re- 
gretted that among the things which have 
31 



STORY TELLING 

been pushed aside and almost entirely neg- 
lected is the gentle art of reading aloud. 

Not long ago, a man who knows success 
gave me a glimpse into the not far distant 
past, when his father and mother were pio- 
neers in our Middle West. Among the experi- 
ences of his boyhood which he recounted was 
that of reading aloud, when his mother chose 
some volume from the small hoard of books 
which she had brought from old Virginia, 
and together mother and son read and talked 
beside the fire in the old log cabin. There 
was no duty which her hands were not called 
upon to do, yet she found time to read aloud 
to her boy that so he might come to know 
the authors whom she prized. One could 
not but feel that something of the son's suc- 
cess was due to a mother who so truly recog- 
nized comparative values. 

When speaking to a friend of the mar- 
vellous use of words which has made her son 
a lecturer of unusual eloquence, she replied 
without hesitation, " Yes, the poets that we 
read aloud together taught him words." In 
still another home it was not freedom from 
care and anxiety or the leisure that money 



READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 

can command which made the storj-hour 
one of the things which linger in the mem- 
ory. There was no time for books that were 
trivial, but those which live from one gen- 
eration to another found place for them- 
selves, and ears eager to hear. Together, 
father and mother and children went slowly 
over the pages, which were not only a joy 
while the voice sounded the words, but have 
ever since had a glamour which no other lit- 
erature can possibly possess. 

To the most of us, children as well as 
grown-ups, the joy that is shared is twice 
joy, and nowhere is this more true than in 
the book which is read with some one of like 
taste. 

If those who are seeking to influence the 
reading tastes of children could only realize 
how potent a means lies in this simple method, 
they would hasten to revive this long neg- 
lected art. 

The search is for something new, and for 
that very reason there is a failure to recog- 
nize the efficiency of what is already possessed. 
Yet the child's eagerness to listen to anything 
we are willing to read ought to be a constant 
33 



STORY TELLING 

reminder that here is our opportunity to 
make him familiar with the books which he 
himself would never open. 

Much of the great literature of the world 
has failed to reach children because they have 
never come in contact with it, or if they 
have seen these books they have been titles 
merely. Every day of their lives a personal 
appeal comes from someone to read this or 
that book, thrilling in title, and set forth in 
graphic verbal picture by the recent reader's 
enthusiasm. When such books are made so 
alluring, why venture in untrodden paths? 

Children are at heart conservatives; they 
prefer to do as generations before them have 
done. There must be a leader, then there 
will be numberless followers. Who of us has 
not witnessed the agony which the child feels 
who is forced to wear clothes unlike those of 
his mates ? What the " crowd " wears and 
does and reads is what each desires to wear 
and do and read in his turn. 

If we can accept this condition as the basis 

of our efforts ; if we can either catch the most 

venturesome spirit long enough to gain his 

interest, or win the crowd, as a crowd, and 

34 



READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 

bring them to a knowledge of the real life 
which lies behind the titles of unfamiliar 
books, we shall in the end accomplish our 
purpose. 

As we have suggested, the first appeal 
which reading aloud makes to children is 
doubtless the delight they feel in sharing a 
common interest. The feeling, though un- 
analyzed, is gratification and pleasure that 
the book appeals sufficiently to the older 
person, so that it is worth while to read word 
for word. 

The appreciation of the reader adds to the 
grasp of the listener, unhampered by the 
mechanical difficulties of reading which usu- 
ally beset him, and often the opportunity for 
a laugh together makes a bond of sympathy 
which no other contact could afford. 

" Then read from the treasured volume 

The poem of thy choice, 
And lend to the rhyme of the poet 

The beauty of thy voice." 

It is hardly necessary to say specifically 
that when the child has made the acquain- 
tance of books of real merit and literary 
value they will unconsciously become the 
35 



STORY TELLING 

standard by which he measures the books of 
his future choice. Personally, I have great 
faith in the unspoiled instincts of children, 
and I think, when once they have felt the 
beat of a great story of adventure or the 
charm of one of the genuine folk stories, 
they turn from the imitation, feeling its un- 
reality for themselves. They instinctively 
feel what the boy tried to express when he 
turned away from ineffective rendering in 
prose of the Robin Hood ballads, and said, 
" No, I want the book about the real Robin 
Hood." 

The influence of beautiful English is also 
worthy of consideration. Modern books are 
put together with little regard for style or 
use of words, and careless writing is followed 
by careless reading, so that there is little 
gain to the child from the time he has spent 
with many books. It is generally admitted 
that the child acquires his vocabulary much 
more rapidly by hearing the words than by 
seeing them. Here, then, is an added value 
which results from the practice of reading 
aloud to children. They become familiar 
with the use of the best English, with new 
36 



READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 

words and combinations to which they are 
unaccustomed. 

The poverty of English found in the aver- 
age home, the constant use of slang expres- 
sions on the street and the playground, the 
influence of the tide of immigration with its 
foreign tongues should make us realize that 
if we have any regard for one of the most 
beautiful and expressive languages in the 
world, we must take some positive stand to 
prevent its deterioration. 

It has been well said, " What you make 
a child love and desire is more important 
than what you make him learn." It is as he 
loves noble English that he will use it; it is 
as he cherishes the books read to him that he 
will desire others of a similar character; it 
is as the reader'^ enthusiasm puts life and 
forcefulness, or cleverness and daring into 
the pages read, that they will captivate his 
emotions and stimulate him to imitation. 

No argument is half so convincing as a 
little experience. On every side one hears 
confirming testimony which points to " the 
splendid influence of reading aloud to chil- 
dren. No one questions the value of time so 
37 



STORY TELLING 

used. What then shall we say of the spirit 
of the modern home which finds no time to 
gratify or cultivate this taste? Something 
surely is wrong when clubs, or recreation, or 
philanthropy, or social intercourse, or bus- 
iness, or even household duties, are allowed 
to usurp the portion of time which should go 
to the training of the mental life of the child. 
There is a duty in this respect which parents 
owe their children that they cannot delegate 
to any one else. There are values to the 
child of a positive nature which come from 
associating this delightful practice with his 
home and his family circle, and for the loss 
of this there can be no possible compensa- 
tion. This is a duty, and should be a pleas- 
ure, which fathers might well assume, since 
there is so small a realm where they can cul- 
tivate the spirit of companionship with their 
children. There has been much amusement 
over the old story of the child who referred to 
his father as " the man who stays here Sun- 
days " ; yet there is ground for considering 
whether the fathers of this country should 
not have some other relation to their children 
than that of the source of financial support. 
38 



READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 

The school has already established to a 
certain extent the habit of reading aloud, 
sometimes as a reward for the accomplish- 
ment of tasks, and sometimes with the delib- 
erate intention of giving the children a wider 
view of some subject or introducing them to 
outside reading. 

The busy teacher who is wise enough to 
recognize the return she gets for this from 
the children in the spirit of companionship, 
enlarged interests, added force to think, and 
increased vocabulary is greatly to be con- 
gratulated. There is an unwise tendency 
among certain teachers to read to the chil- 
dren books not only of ephemeral character 
but those absolutely lacking in merit, when 
the child is entitled to the best. The eager- 
ness of children to hear what one is willing 
to read is itself an opportunity for intro- 
ducing something which requires thought in- 
stead of merely affording entertainment. It 
is worth while to ask this eager mind to reach 
up out of the trend of his ordinary thoughts, 
and to give him something to " ponder in his 
heart." 

There should be a portion of the selections 



STORY TELLING 

which are made to be read aloud that remain 
free from any connection with a task. There 
is material enough for reproduction without 
using this ; and half of the gain to the child, 
all of his real love for what he is hearing, will 
be lost in his sense of impending doom. 

As far as libraries are concerned, it seems 
strange that with all their eagerness to bring 
the book and the child into successful contact 
they have so often disregarded this simplest 
of methods. They have been over-anxious, it 
would seem, to incorporate story telling as 
a regular feature of their work with children, 
and have failed to realize that a "story- 
hour " utilized for good reading has far bet- 
ter results than twice that time devoted to 
inferior story telling. 

Man}^ people either on a library staff or 
outside are very acceptable readers, and have 
a wide knowledge of books, which might be 
put at the service of the library if only they 
were asked to do what they can do instead of 
required to do that for which they have no 
training. 

It would seem wise in a library story-hour 
not to attempt to read an entire book as we 
40 



READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 

would naturally do at home or in school, but 
to take up such portions of it as will arouse 
the curiosity of the child, or get him well 
started on a long and difficult opening. 

The greatest cause of the failures which 
are experienced in these special phases of 
library work are due to hasty preparation or 
to the lack of any preparation at all. One 
may occasionally reap the reward of in- 
spiration, when out of the enthusiasm of a 
conversation or the appeal of a situation, at 
the psychological moment a group of boys 
and girls is gathered together and their at- 
tention is arrested by exactly the right story ; 
but ordinarily the carefully prepared plan 
carries much better. 

It is not necessary to thrust the machinery 
of the drama into- view, but the actor who re- 
lies on principle rather than on inspiration 
is less likely to be overwhelmed when the in- 
spiration is not there. 

It may not be amiss to suggest how large 
an element the beauty of the voice is in the 
delight which people feel when listening to 
reading. Children are quite as sensitive as 
grown people to quality of tone and pitch, to 
41 



STORY TELLING 

distinct enunciation, and to artistic expres- 
sion. Judging from the examples of style 
which one hears, not only in the schoolroom 
but in the club and elsewhere, it would seem 
that foreigners are entirely justified in the 
criticism of what they term the " American 
voice." The disregard for punctuation and 
the habitual argumentative and dictatorial 
style of reading are extremely monotonous 
and inexpressive. Down go the voices like so 
many hammers, at every comma, semicolon, 
colon, or period. It would be impossible in 
most cases in this country to punctuate cor- 
rectly from dictation as is the custom every- 
where in France. A little thought as to the 
relation of punctuation and expression, and 
an effort to visualize the pictures as we read, 
will do much toward giving color and expres- 
sion to our performance. 

A knowledge of the community, and of the 
books which have been most read, is an in- 
dispensable background for effective work. 
One must know what he can take as his 
" point of contact " before he can success- 
fully approach a group of children or young 
people. 

42 



READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 

It may be helpful to become familiar with 
the lists of books used by other libraries for 
reading aloud, but they ought always to be 
treated as suggestions, the success of which 
may be due somewhat to the modified condi- 
tions and environment in each particular 
case. 

Two suggestive lists are the monthly Bulle- 
tin of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh, 
Vol. 12, No. 1, Jan. 1907, Reading Circles 
for Boys and Girls ; and Harriet E. Hassler's 
Graded List of Stories for Reading Aloud, 
Public Library Commission of Indiana, 1908, 
for including both whole books and selections, 
which will prove stimulating and helpful, par- 
ticularly in the beginning of the effort to in- 
troduce children to books in this way. As 
growth comes through experience, there will 
be less need for following outlines and more 
ability to see independently what is worth 
using. 

Librarians will find that the teachers will 
greatly appreciate familiarity with school 
courses of study and supplementary reading 
as well as the books which they desire to read 
to the children, so that the school work shall 
43 



STORY TELLING 

not suffer from repetition and a consequent 
lack of freshness. 

Not only must the story itself be con- 
sidered, in making selections for reading 
aloud, but the form and beauty of the Eng- 
lish as well, though there are occasions 
when a restless group of children who are 
unused to listening must be held merely by 
the interest of the plot. 

Such books and stories as the following 
seem to represent worthy examples of the 
things desirable for reading aloud: Van 
Dyke's " Other Wise Man," Parkman's " Ore- 
gon Trail," " Uncle Remus's Stories," Haw- 
thorne's " Great Stone Face," " Wonder 
Book," and " Tanglewood Tales," Hale's 
"Man Without a Country" and "In His 
Name," Kingsley's " Greek Heroes," Lamb's 
" Tales from Shakespeare," Irving's " Rip 
Van Winkle " and " Legend of Sleepy Hol- 
low," portions of " Gulliver's Travels " and 
" Pilgrim's Progress," Stein's " Gabriel and 
the Hour Book," Dickens's " Christmas 
Carol," "Cricket on the Hearth," and 
enough of many of the other novels to serve 
as a good introduction, perhaps begin- 
44 



READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 

ning with " Oliver Twist " ; Ruskin's " King 
of the Golden River," Poe's "Fall of the 
House of Usher," " Gold Bug," and " Pur- 
loined Letter," Scott's " Ivanhoe," " Quentin 
Durward," and " Guy Mannering," Mark 
Twain's " Prince and the Pauper," and Lan- 
ier's editions of " Froissart " and " Malory," 
Morris's " Sundering Flood," " Famous Ad- 
ventures and Escapes of the Civil War," 
Hughes's " Tom Brown's School Days," 
Baldwin's " Golden Age," which is an excel- 
lent introduction to the Odyssey, F. Hop- 
kinson Smith's " Captain Joe," La Motte- 
Fouque's " Undine," and Kipling's " Drums 
of the Fore and Aft." 

These are only a few of the things which 
will supply material for the " reading story- 
hour," and to these selections of prose works 
it is important to add a great deal of poetry. 
Often it is quite possible to find poems which 
relate themselves to the subject of the story 
and which can be utilized in connection with 
it. 

But aside from this incidental use of po- 
etry, the " reading story-hour " is certainly 
the place where the children may learn to 
45 



STORY TELLING 

love the beauty of verse. A few exceptional 
children will respond quickly to the rhythm 
and pulse of poetry, but with most children 
who have passed beyond the years of the 
greatest appeal of imaginative literature, 
the response will be to the narrative element, 
and it will be necessary to select poetry in 
which the story element is dominant. 

Nothing supplies this element more per- 
fectly than the old ballads filled as they are 
with combat, adventure, and romance, with 
virtues which are elemental, perhaps, but 
nevertheless are not to be despised. Cour- 
age, justice, a love of nature, fairness, pa- 
triotic devotion, these are all part and 
parcel of ballad literature, and if rightly 
brought to the attention of children, will be 
as popular as they were among the people 
who first sung them. There is so much humor 
in the ballads of " Robin Hood," so much 
spirit and thrill to Morris's " Sigurd the 
Volsung," so much breadth to Joaquin Mil- 
ler's " Columbus," such daring and courage 
in Macaulay's " Lays," and Longfellow's 
ballads, so much adventure and romance in 
Scott's " Lady of the Lake " and " Lay of 
46 



READING ALOUD TO CHILDREN 

the Last Minstrel," that if there is any music 
in the reader, any feeling for what he is read- 
ing, any response to the spirit of the great 
out-of-doors, it will inevitably be reflected in 
those who listen to him. 



47 



CHAPTER III 

STORY TELLING 

Revival of the art ; necessity for training ; great short stories ; 
Tolstoy s " Where Love Is, There God Is Also " a type ; 
difference between text for reading and one for telling ; 
selection of stories to tell from the "Jungle Books" 

WITH the suddenness of a storm on a 
small lake an interest in story telling 
has recently been revived, and with our usual 
American enthusiasm, many have undertaken 
to tell stories with very little consideration for 
what the art is. To some it has appealed as 
a pleasing occupation, to others as a new 
and better method of teaching English, by 
still others it has been confysed with the art 
of acting or that of impersonation, but seem- 
ingly to few has it been revealed as an art 
in itself, with the great underlying purpose 
of all art, to give joy to the world. 

Only as story telling is given its real 
place in the world of art can it attain its 
full significance. The art of the actor is a 
48 



STORY TELLING 

means of our understanding a masterpiece, 
like Shakespeare, better as literature, but it 
has a value of its own beyond its interpre- 
tation of the text of the drama. So story 
telling is an art of itself, regardless of the 
material which it presents or the effect pro- 
duced by that material. It must give de- 
light and joy in itself or it is without 
justification, no matter what secondary ob- 
jects seem to be accomplished. 

All that has been said of the value of 
reading aloud to children as a means of cul- 
tivating literary taste and appreciation, 
establishing standards of language and ex- 
pression, and giving opportunity for as- 
sociating with great thoughts and ideals 
as they are crystallized in books, is, if any- 
thing, more true pf the results of story tell- 
ing, because of the deeper impression created 
by the magnetic quality of story telling and 
the dramatic power of the story teller. 

This power of the story teller lies in his 
opportunity to let his message come from his 
eyes as well as his lips, a thing which is pos- 
sible since he has neither book nor memory 
of printed page to burden him. 
49 



STORY TELLING 

The gift of telling stories is an endowment 
of nature, like a beautiful voice or a talent 
for painting; so the real story teller can 
never be made, either by hearing a course of 
lectures on the subject, or by reading a 
book devoted to technique; but cultivation 
is as necessary for perfection with the story 
teller as with the singer or the painter. 
There are those who hold that training of 
talent is a dangerous thing, and feel that 
what is gained in technique from training is 
lost in spontaneity and the expression of the 
individual. The error of this theory lies in 
the fact that the theorists have failed to 
recognize the real outcome of training. 

Training leads out of unconscious self- 
expression into a certain self-consciousness, 
it is true, but true art comes only when the 
training has gone a step farther and made 
it possible to lose self-consciousness again 
in the greatness of art. Until this is ac- 
complished there is still need of training. 

A book on the art of story telling is re- 
lated to the art in much the same way that a 
grammar is to the writing of poetry, a 
treatise on sculpture to a statue of Michael 
50 



STORY TELLING 

Angelo, or a volume on how to play the piano 
to a performance of a great pianist. Before 
it can take a place as an element of training, 
there must be the spirit and artistry of the 
thing itself to illuminate any treatise, how- 
ever good. Training involves the study of 
the technique of the use of the voice and of 
gesture, sources for stories, selection and 
preparation of material, practice in actual 
presentation of stories, and not least im- 
portant, hearing stories told by artists, the 
character of whose work may unconsciously 
become the ideal for the story teller. 

In this day of willingness to attempt any- 
thing, no matter how slight the equipment, 
it may be well to consider the time which 
the actor in France takes for preparation. 
Seven years of study and preparatory work, 
we are told, he feels none too much to devote 
to the perfecting of his art before he shall 
appear upon the stage as a full-fledged pro- 
fessional. It is no wonder that such rever- 
ence for dramatic art and such standards 
of training have produced the marvellous 
actors of France. A similar regard for the 
art of story telling would do away with the 
51 



STORY TELLING 

idea that anyone can become a story teller and 
would induce serious thought as to the neces- 
sity of training and proper preparation be- 
fore entering the field of the professional 
story teller. 

Outside of this field, however, there are 
those who have been invited by necessity or 
expediency or inclination into the paths of 
story telling, as an adjunct to their other 
work. 

The purpose of this book is not in any 
way to attempt to give information to those 
who have devoted both time and study to 
the subject, or who have had practical expe- 
rience in story telling, but rather to make a 
few suggestions to those mothers, teachers, 
and librarians who are interested in its use 
as a phase of another occupation. 

My observation leads me to believe that 
average mothers, librarians, and teachers are 
not likely to have much time at their disposal 
in which to search for good material to use. 
They feel the necessity for using stories which 
can be easily obtained and which will require 
the least possible preparation in the matter 
of adaptation. The larger the list of 
52 



STORY TELLING 

"sources for the story teller" and "books 
for the use of the children," the more con- 
fusing it seems, and they are not familiar 
enough with versions to feel that they can 
choose from that standpoint, however schol- 
arly. 

It is the desire to meet such a need that 
leads to the suggestions herein included, made 
from a personal experience, with the realiza- 
tion that they are quite unnecessary for the 
student of literature, or the professional. 

Nothing is more helpful to a novice in 
story telling, for obtaining familiarity with 
the principles of construction and the essen- 
tial qualities of a narration, than the study 
of a few of the world's great short stories, 
such as Daudet's " Death of the Dauphin," 
Hawthorne's " Great Stone Face," Kipling's 
"Man Who Would Be King," Dickens's 
"Child's Dream of a Star," Stevenson's 
" Markheim," Maupassant's " Necklace " 
and his " Coward," Balzac's " Passion in the 
Desert," Irving's "Rip Van Winkle," and 
Poe's " Gold Bug " or his " Black Cat." 

As an aid in the appreciation of the short 
story the following books will be of assist- 
53 



STORY TELLING 

ance : Brander Matthews's " Philosophy of 
the Short Story," Charles S. Baldwin's 
" American Short Stories," and Bliss Perry's 
" Study of Prose Fiction." 

These stories are great because they are 
universal in character, and in the majority 
of cases are marked by that simplicity which 
should be a vital part of the rehearsal of any 
story whether written or verbal. 

Tolstoy's " Where Love Is, There God Is 
Also " is a typical story for analysis. It may 
prove somewhat long to tell in combination 
with other stories, but as a story to use by 
itself it needs little modification of the writ- 
ten form. 

The introductory paragraphs, stating the 
conditions of Martin's life, may be short- 
ened into a few sentences which will still pic- 
ture the lonely old man and the visit from his 
friend. In a similar way the part which 
tells of his experience in reading the Bible 
may be shortened, care being taken, however, 
not to omit the fact of the influence of the 
story of the anointing of Jesus' feet, for on 
that the rest of the story hangs. The por- 
tions bracketed in the text given below in- 
54 



STORY TELLING 

dicate the parts omitted or condensed in the 
story as I have told it. 



WHERE LOVE IS, THERE GOD IS ALSOi 
By Count Lyof N. Tolstoy 

In a certain city dwelt Martin Avdyeeich, the cob- 
bler. He lived in a cellar, a wretched little hole with 
a single window. The window looked up to- 
wards the street, and through it Martin could just 
see the passers-by. It is true that he could see little 
more than their boots, but [Martin Avdyeeich could 
read a man's character by his boots, so he needed no 
more. Martin Avdyeeich had lived long in that one 
place, and had many acquaintances.] Few indeed were 
the boots in that neighborhood which had not passed 
through his hands at some time or other. [On some 
he would fasten new soles, to others he would give 
side-pieces, others again he would stitch all round, 
and even give them new uppers if need be. And often 
he saw his own handiwork through the window. There 
was always lots of work for him, for Avdyeeich's 
hand was cunning and his leather good; nor did he 
overcharge, and he always kept his word. He always 
engaged to do a job by a fixed time if he could; but 
if he could not, he said so at once, and deceived no 
man. So every one knew Avdyeeich, and he had no 
lack of work. Avdyeeich had always been a pretty 
good man, but as he grew old he began to think more 
about his soul, and draw nearer to his God.] While 
1 Reprinted, by permission,- from The Outlook, New York. 
55 



STORY TELLING 

Martin was still a journeyman his wife had died; 
but his wife had left him a little boy — three years 
old. Their other children had not lived. [All the 
eldest had died early. Martin wished at first 
to send his little child into the country to his 
sister, but afterwards he thought better of it. " My 
Kapitoshka," thought he, " will feel miserable in a 
strange household. He shall stay here with me." 
And so Avdyeeich left his master, and took to living 
in lodgings alone with his little son. But God did 
not give Avdyeeich happiness in his children.] No 
sooner had the little one begun to grow up and be a 
help and a joy to his father's heart, than a sickness 
fell upon Kapitoshka, the little one took to his bed, 
lay there in a raging fever for a week, and then died. 
Martin buried his son in despair — so desperate was 
he that he began to murmur against God. [Such dis- 
gust of life overcame him that he more than once 
begged God that he might die; and he reproached 
God for taking not him, an old man, but his darling, 
his only son, instead. And after that Avdyeeich left 
off going to church.] 

And, lo! one day there came to Avdyeeich [from 
the Troitsa Monastery] an aged peasant-pilgrim — 
[it was already the eighth year of his pilgrimage.] 
Avdyeeich fell a-talking with him, and began to com- 
plain of his great sorrow. " As for living any longer, 
thou man of God," said he, " I desire it not. Would 
only that I might die! [Tliat is my sole prayer to 
God. I am now a man who has no hope."] 

And the old man said to him : " Thy speech, Martin, 

is not good. How shall we judge the doings of God? 

[God's judgments are not our thoughts. God willed 

that thy son shouldst die, but that thou shouldst live. 

56 



STORY TELLING 

Therefore 'twas the best thing both for him and for 
thee.] It is because thou wouldst fain have lived for 
thy own delight that thou dost now despair." 

" But what then is a man to live for ? " asked 
Avdyeeich. 

And the "old man answered : " For God, Martin ! 
He gave thee life, and for Him therefore must thou 
live. When thou dost begin to live for Him, thou wilt 
grieve about nothing more, and all tilings will come 
easy to thee." 

Martin was silent for a moment, and then he said: 
"And how must one live for God?" 

" [Christ hath shown us the way. Thou knowest 
thy letters.] Buy the Gospels and read; there thou 
wilt find out how to live for God. There everything 
is explained." 

These words made the heart of Avdyeeich burn 
within him, and he went the same day and bought 
for himself a New Testament printed in very large 
type, and began to read. 

Avdyeeich set out with the determination to read 
it only on holidays; but as he read, it did his heart 
so much good that he took to reading it every day. 
[And the second time he read until all the kerosene 
in the lamp had burnt itself out, and for all that he 
could not tear himself away from the book. And so 
it was every evening.] And the more he read, the 
more clearly he understood what God wanted of him, 
and how it behooved him to live for God; and his 
heart grew lighter and lighter continually. [For- 
merly, whenever he lay down to sleep he would only 
sigh and groan, and think of nothing but Kapitoshka, 
but now he would only say to himself : " Glory to 
Thee! Glory to Thee, Lord! Thy will be done! "] 

57 



STORY TELLING 

Henceforth the whole life of Avdyeeich was changed. 
Formerly, whenever he had a holiday, he would go to 
the tavern to drink tea, nor would he say no to a 
drop of brandy now and again. [He would tipple 
with his comrades, and though not actually drunk, 
would, for all that, leave the inn a bit merry, bab- 
bling nonsense and talking loudly and censoriously.] 
He had done with all that now. His life became 
quiet and joyful. With the morning light he sat 
down to his work, worked out his time, then took 
down his lamp from the hook, placed it on the table, 
took down his book from the shelf, bent over it, 
and sat him down to read. And the more he read 
the more he understood, and his heart grew brighter 
and happier. 

It happened once that Martin was up reading till 
very late. He was reading St. Luke's Gospel. [He 
was reading the sixth chapter, and as he read he 
came to the words : " And to him that smiteth thee 
on the one cheek, offer also the other." This passage 
he read several times, and presently he came to that 
place where the Lord says : " And why call ye me 
Lord, Lord, and do not the things which I say? 
Whosoever cometh to Me, and heareth My sayings, 
and doeth them, I will show you to whom he is like. 
He is like a man which built an house, and dug 
deep, and laid the foundations on a rock. And when 
the flood arose, the storm beat vehemently upon that 
house, and could not shake it, for it was founded 
upon a rock. But he that heareth, and doeth not, is 
like a man that without a foundation built an house 
upon the earth, against which the stream did beat 
vehemently, and immediately it fell, and the ruin of 
that house was great." 

58 



STORY TELLING 

Avdyeeich read these words through and through, 
and his heart was glad. He took off his glasses, 
laid them on the book, rested his elbow on the table, 
and fell a-thinking. And he began to measure his 
own life by these words. And he thought to himself, 
" Is my house built on the rock or on the sand ? How 
good to be as on a rock! How easy it all seems to 
thee sitting alone here! It seems as if thou wert 
doing God's will to the full, and so thou takest no 
heed and fallest away again. And yet thou wouldst 
go on striving, for so it is good for thee. O Lord, 
help me! " Thus thought he, and would have laid 
him down, but it was a grief to tear himself away 
from the book. And so he began reading the seventh 
chapter. He read all about the Centurion, he read all 
about the Widow's Son, he read all about the answer 
to the disciples of St. John; and so he came to that 
place where the rich Pharisee invites our Lord to be 
his guest.] And he read all about how the woman 
who was a sinner anointed His feet and washed them 
with her tears, and how He justified her. [And so 
he came at last to the forty-fourth verse, and there 
he read these words, " And He turned to the woman 
and said to Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered 
into thine house, thou gavest Me no water for My 
feet; but she has washed My feet with tears and 
wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gav- 
est Me no kiss, but this woman, since the time I 
came in, hath not ceased to kiss My feet. Mine 
head with oil thou didst not anoint."] And again 
Avdyeeich took off his glasses, and laid them on 
the book, and fell a-thinlving. 

" So it is quite plain that I too have something 
of the Pharisee about me. Am I not always think- ^ 

59 



STORY TELLING 

ing of myself? Am I not always thinking of drink- 
ing tea, and keeping myself as warm and cozy aa 
possible, without thinking at all about the guest? 
Simon thought about himself, but did not give 
the slightest thought to his guest. But who was 
his guest? The Lord Himself. And suppose he 
were to come to me, should I treat Him as the Phar- 
isee did? " 

And Avdyeeich leaned both his elbows on the table 
and, without perceiving it, fell a-dozing. 

" Martin ! " — it was as though the voice of some 
one close to his ear. 

Martin started up from his nap. " Who 's there ? " 

He turned round, he gazed at the door, but there 
was no one. Again he dozed off. Suddenly he heard 
quite plainly, "Martin, Martin, I say! Look to- 
morrow into the street. I am coming." 

Martin awoke, rose from his chair, and began to 
rub his eyes. And he did not know himself whether 
he had heard these words asleep or awake. He 
turned down the lamp and laid him down to rest. 

At dawn next day Avdyeeich arose, prayed 
to God, [lit his stove, got ready his gruel and cab- 
bage soup, filled his samovar, put on his apron,] and 
sat him down by his window to work. There Avdy- 
eeich sits and works, and thinks of nothing but the 
things of yesternight. His thoughts were divided. 
[He thought at one time that he must have gone 
off dozing, and then again he thought he really 
must have heard that voice. It might have been so, 
thought he.] 

Martin sits at the window and looks as much at 
his window as at his work, and whenever a strange 
pair of boots passes by he bends forward and looks 

60 



STORY TELLING 

out of tlie window, so as to see the face as well as 
the feet of the passers-by. [The house porter passed 
by in new felt boots, the water-carrier passed by, 
and after that] there passed close to the window an 
old soldier, one of Nicholas's veterans, in tattered 
old boots, with a shovel in his hands. [Avdyeeich 
knew him by his boots.] The old fellow was called 
Stepanuich, and lived with the neighboring shopkeeper, 
who harbored him of his charity. [His duty was to 
help the porter.] Stepanuich stopped before Avdy- 
eeich's window to sweep away the snow. [Avdyeeich 
cast a glance at him, and then went on working as 
before.] 

" I 'm not growing sager as I grow older," thought 
Avdyeeich, with some self-contempt. " I make up 
my mind that Christ is coming to me, and, lo! 'tis 
only Stepanuich clearing away the snow. [ThoU 
simpleton, thou! thou art wool-gathering! " Then 
Avdyeeich made ten more stitches, and then he 
stretched his head once more towards the window. 
He looked through the window again, and there he 
saw that Stepanuich had placed the shovel against 
the wall, and was warming himself and taking breath 
a bit.] 

" The old man is very much broken," thought 
Avdyeeich to himself. " It is quite plain that he 
has scarcely strength enough to scrape away the 
snow. Suppose I make him drink a little tea! the 
samovar, too, is just on the boil." Avdyeeich put 
down his awl, got up, placed the samovar on the 
table, put some tea in it, and tapped on the window 
with his fingers. [Stepanuich turned round and 
came to the window.] Avdyeeich beckoned to him, 
and then went and opened the door. 
61 



STORY TELLING 

" Come in and warm yourself a bit," cried lie. 
"You're a bit chilled, eh?" 

"Christ requite you! Yes, and all my bones ache 
too," said Stepanuich. Stepanuich came in, shook 
off the snow, [and began to wipe his feet so as not to 
soil the floor, but he tottered sadly. 

" Don't trouble about wiping your feet. I '11 rub 
it off myself. It's all in the day's work.] Come in 
and sit down," said Avdyeeich. " Here, take a cup 
of tea." 

And Avdyeeich filled two cups, and gave one to 
his guest, [and he poured his own tea out into the 
saucer and began to blow it. 

Stepanuich drank his cup, turned it upside down, 
put a gnawed crust on the top of it, and said, 
" Thank you." But it was quite plain that he wanted 
to be asked to have some more. 

"Have a drop more. Do!" said Avdyeeich, and 
poured out fresh cups for his guest and himself,] 
and as Avdyeeich drank his cup, he could not help 
glancing at the window from time to time. 

" Dost thou expect any one ? " asked his guest. 

" Do I expect any one ? Well, honestly, I hardly 
know. I am expecting and I am not expecting, and 
there 's a word which has burnt itself right into my 
heart. Whether it was a vision or no, I know not. 
Look now, my brother ! I was reading yesterday about 
our little Father^ Christ, how He suffered, how He 
came on earth. [Hast thou heard of Him, eh?" 

" I have heard, I have heard," replied Stepanuich, 
" but we poor ignorant ones know not our letters."] 

1 Rus. Batushka. No translation can adequately express the 
meaning of this caressing diminutive. The German Papachen is 
the nearest approach to it. All the Slavonic languages have its 
equivalent. 

62 



STORY TELLING 

"Anyhow, I was reading about this very thing — 
how He came down upon earth. I was reading how 
He went to the Pharisee, and how the Pharisee did 
not receive Him at all. [Thus I thought, and so, 
about yesternight, little brother mine, I read that 
very thing, and bethought me how the Honorable 
did not receive our little Father Christ honorably.] 
But suppose, I thought, if He came to one like me — 
would I receive Him? Simon at any rate did not 
receive Him at all. Thus I thought, and so thinlc- 
ing, fell asleep. I fell asleep, I say, little brother 
mine, and I heard my name called. I started up. 
A voice was whispering at my very ear. ' Look out 
to-morrow ! ' it said, ' I am coming.' And so it befell 
twice. Now look! wouldst thou believe it? the idea 
stuck to me — I scold myself for my folly, and yet 
I look for Him, our little Father Christ! " 

Stepanuich shook his head and said nothing, but 
he drank his cup dry and put it aside. [Tlien Avdy- 
eeieh took up the cup and filled it again. 

" Drink some more. 'Twill do thee good. Now 
it seems to me that when our little Father went 
about on earth. He despised no one, but sought unto 
tlie simple folk most of all. He was always among 
the simple folk. Those disciples of His too, he 
chose most of them from amongst our brother-labor- 
ers, sinners like unto us. He that exalteth himself. 
He says, shall be abased, and he that abaseth him- 
self shall be exalted. Ye, says He, call me Lord, and 
I, says He, wash your feet. He who would be the 
first among you, He says, let him become the ser- 
vant of all. And therefore it is that He says, 
Blessed are the lowly, the peacemakers, the humble, 
and the long-sufTering." 

63 



STORY TELLING 

Stepanuicli forgot his tea. He was an old man, 
soft-hearted, and tearful. He sat and listened, and 
the tears rolled down his elieeks. 

" Come, drink a little mare," said Avdyeeich. 
But Stepanuich crossed himself, expressed his thanks, 
pushed away his cup, and got up.] 

" I thank thee, Martin Avdyeeich," said he. " I 
have fared well at thy hands, and thou hast re- 
freshed me both in body and soul." 

" Thou wilt show me a kindness by coming again. 
I am so glad to have a guest," said Avdyeeich. 
Stepanuich departed, and Martin [poured out the 
last drop of tea, drank it, washed up, and again] 
sat down by the window to work — [he had some 
back-stitching to do. He stitched and stitched, and 
now and then cast glances at the window — he was 
looking for Christ, and could think of nothing but 
Him and His works. And the divers sayings of 
Christ were in his head all the time. 

Two soldiers passed by, one in regimental boots, 
the other in boots of his own making; after that, 
the owner of the next house passed by in nicely 
brushed goloshes. A balcer with a basket also passed 
by. All these passed by in turn, and] then there 
came alongside the window a woman in worsted 
stockings and rustic shoes, and as she was passing 
by she stopped short in front of the partition wall. 
Avdyeeich looked up at her from his window, and 
he saw that the woman was a stranger and poorly 
clad, and that she had a little child with her. She 
was leaning up against the wall with her back to 
the wind, and tried to wrap the child up, but she 
had nothing to wrap it up with. The woman 
wore summer clothes, and thin enough they were. 
64 



STORY TELLING 

And from out of his corner Avdyeeich heard the 
child crying and the woman trying to comfort it, 
but she could not. Then Avdyeeich got up, went out 
of the door and on to the steps, and cried, " My good 
woman! my good woman! " 
^,The woman heard him and turned round, 

" Why dost thou stand out in the cold there with 
the child? Come inside! In the warm room thou 
wilt be better able to tend him. This way! " 

The woman was amazed. What she saw was an 
old fellow in an apron and with glasses on his nose 
calling to her. She came towards him. 

They went down the steps together — they went 
into the room. The old man led the woman to the 
bed. " There," said he, " sit down, gossip, nearer to 
the stove, and warm and feed thy little one, , . ." 

He went to the table, got some bread and a dish, 
[opened the oven door, put some cabbage soup into 
the dish, took out a pot of gruel, but it was not 
quite ready, so he put some cabbage soup only into 
the dish, and placed it on the table. Then he fetched 
bread, took down the cloth from the hook, and 
spread it on the table,] 

" Sit down and Have something to eat, gossip," 
said he, " and I will sit down a little with the 
youngster, I have had children of my own, and 
know how to manage them," 

The woman crossed herself, sat down at the table, 
and began to eat, and Avdyeeich sat down on the bed 
with the child. [Avdyeeich smacked his lips at him 
again and again, but his lack of teeth made it a 
clumsy joke at best. And all the time the child never 
left off shrieking. Then Avdyeeich hit upon the idea 
of shaking his finger at him, so he snapped his fingers 

65 



STORY TELLING 

up and down, backwards and forwards, right in front 
of the child's mouth. He did not put his finger into 
its mouth, because his finger was black and sticky 
with cobbler's wax. And the child stared at the 
finger and was silent, and presently it began to 
laugh. And Avdyeeich was delighted. But] the 
woman went on eating, and told him who she was 
and whence she came. 

" I am a soldier's wife," she said : " my eight 
months' husband they drove right away from me, 
and nothing has been heard of him since. I took a 
cook's place till I became a mother. They could 
not keep me and the child. It is now three months 
since I have been drifting about without any fixed 
resting-place. I have eaten away my all. [I wanted 
to be a wet-nurse, but people wouldn't have me: 
' Thou art too thin,' they said. I have just been to 
the merchant's wife where our grandmother lives, 
and there they promised to take me in. I thought 
it was all right, but she told me to come again 
in a week. But she lives a long way off.] I am 
chilled to death, and he is quite tired out. But, 
God be praised! our landlady has compassion on us, 
and gives us shelter for Christ's sake. But for that 
I don't know how we could live through it all." 

Avdyeeich sighed, and said, " And have you no 
warm clothes ? " 

"Ah, kind friend! this is indeed warm-clothes 
time, but yesterday I pawned away my last shawl for 
two grivenki." * 

The woman went to the bed and took up the child, 
but Avdyeeich stood up, went to the wall cupboard, 

1 A grivenka id the tenth part of a ruble — about 5 cents. 
CO 



STORY TELLING 

rummaged about a bit, and then brought back witK 
him an old jacket. 

" Look ! " said he, " 'tis a shabby thing, 'tis true, 
but it will do to wrap up in." 

The woman looked at the old jacket, then she 
gazed at the old man, and, taking the jacket, fell 
a-weeping. [Avdyeeich also turned away, crept under 
the bed, drew out a trunk, and seemed to be very 
busy about it, whereupon he again sat down opposite 
the woman.] 

Then the woman said: "Christ requite thee, dear 
little father! It is plain that it was He who sent 
me by thy window. When I first came out it was 
warm, and now it haa turned very cold. And He 
it was, little father, who made thee look out of the 
window and have compassion on wretched me." 

Avdyeeich smiled slightly, and said : " Yes, He 
must have done it, for I looked not out of the window 
in vain, dear gossip! " 

[And Avdyeeich told his dream to the soldier's wife 
also, and how he had heard a voice promising that 
the Lord should come to him that day. 

" All things are p9ssible," said the woman. Then 
she rose up, put on the jacket, wrapped it round her 
little one, and then began to curtsy and thank 
Avdyeeich once more. 

" Take this for Christ's sake," said Avdyeeich, 
giving her a two-grivenka piece, "and redeem your 
shawl." The woman crossed herself, Avdyeeich 
crossed himself, and then he led the woman to the 
door.] 

The woman went away. Avdyeeich ate up the 
remainder of the cabbage soup, washed up, and again 
sat down to work. He worked on and on, but he did 

67 



STORY TELLING 

not forget the window, and whenever the window 
was darkened he immediately looked up to see who 
was passing. [Acquaintances passed, strangers 
passed, but there was no one in particular.] 

But now Avdyeeich sees how, right in front of hia 
window, an old woman, a huckster, has taken her 
stand. She carries a basket of apples. Not many 
now remained; she had evidently sold them nearly 
all. Across her shoulder she carried a sack full of 
shavings. She must have picked them up near some 
new building, and was taking them home with her. 
It was plain that the sack was straining her shoulder. 
She wanted to shift it on to the other shoulder, so she 
rested the sack on the pavement, placed the apple- 
basket on a small post, and set about shaking down 
the shavings in the sack. Now while she was shak- 
ing down the sack, an urchin in a ragged cap sud- 
denly turned up, goodness knows from whence, grabbed 
at one of the apples in the basket, and would 
have made off with it, but the wary old woman 
turned quickly round and gripped the youth by the 
sleeve. The lad fought and tried to tear himself 
loose, but the old woman seized him with both 
hands, knocked his hat off, and tugged hard at his 
hair. The lad howled, and the woman reviled him. 
Avdyeeich did not stop to put away his awl, but 
pitched it on the floor, rushed into the courtyard, 
and in his haste stumbled on the steps and dropped 
his glasses. Avdyeeich ran out into the street. The 
old woman was tugging at the lad's hair and wanted 
to drag him off to the police, while the boy fought 
and kicked. 

" I did n't take it," said he. " What are you 
whacking me for? Let me go! " 

68 



STORY TELLING 

Avdyeeich came up and tried to part them. He 
seized the lad by the arm and said : " Let Mm go, 
little mother! Forgive him for Christ's sake! " 

" I '11 forgive him so that he sha'n't forget the 
taste of fresh birch-rods. I mean to take the rascal 
to the police station." 

Avdyeeich began to entreat -with the old woman. 

" Let him go, little mother ; he will not do so 
any more. Let him go for Christ's sake." 

The old woman let him go. The lad would have 
bolted, but Avdyeeich held him fast. 

" Beg the little mother's pardon," said he, " and 
don't do such things any more. I saw thee take 
them." 

Then the lad began to cry and beg pardon. 

" Well, that 's all right ! And now, there 's an 
apple for thee." And Avdyeeich took one out of the 
basket and gave it to the boy. " I '11 pay thee for it, 
little mother," he said to the old woman. 

" Thou wilt ruin them that way, the blackguards,'* 
said the old woman. "If I had the rewarding of 
him, he should not be able to sit down for a week." 

" Oh, little mother, little mother ! " cried Av- 
dyeeich, " that is our way of looking at things, but 
it is not God's way. If we ought to be whipped so 
for the sake of one apple, what do we deserve for 
our sins ? " 

The old woman was silent. 

[And Avdyeeich told the old woman about the 
parable of the master who forgave his servant a 
very great debt, and how that servant immediately 
went out and caught his fellow-servant by the throat 
because he was his debtor. The old woman listened 
to the end, and the lad listened too.] 



STORY TELLING 

" God bade us forgive," said Avdyeeich, " other- 
wise He will not forgive us. We must forgive every 
one, especially the thoughtless." 

The old woman shook her head and sighed. 

[" That 's all very well," she said, " but they are 
spoiled enough already." 

" Then it is for us old people to teach them better," 
Baid Avdyeeich. 

" So say I," replied the old woman. " I had seven 
of them at one time, and now I have but a single 
daughter left." And the old woman began telling 
him where and how she lived with her daughter, 
and how many grandchildren she had. " I 'm not 
what I was," she said, " but I work all I can. I 
am sorry for my grandchildren, and good children 
they are, too. No one is so glad to see me as they 
are. Little Aksyutka will go to none but me. 
' Grandma dear ! darling grandma ! ' " and the old 
woman was melted to tears. "As for him," she 
added, pointing to the lad, " boys will be boys, I 
suppose. Well, God be with him! "] 

Now just as the old woman was about to hoist 
the sack on to her shoulder, the lad rushed forward 
and said: 

"Give it here, and I'll carry it for thee, granny! 
It is all in my way." 

The old woman shook her head, but she did put 
the sack on the lad's shoulder. 

And so they trudged down the street together 
Bide by side. [And the old woman forgot to ask 
Avdyeeich for the money for the apple. Avdyeeich 
kept standing and looking after them, and heard 
how they talked to each other, as they went, about 
all sorts of things.] 

70 



STORY TELLING 

Avdyeeich followed them with his eyes till they 
were out of sight, then he turned homewards [and 
found his glasses on the steps (they were not bro- 
ken), picked up his awl,] and sat down to work 
again. He worked away for a little while, but soon 
he was scarcely able to distinguish the stitches, 
[and he saw the lamplighter going round to light 
the lamps.] "I see it is time to light up," thought 
lie, [so he trimmed his little lamp, lighted it, and 
again sat down to work. He finished one boot com- 
pletely, turned it round and inspected it. " Good ! " 
he cried.] He put away his tools, swept up the cut- 
tings, removed the brushes and tips, put away the 
awl, took down the lamp, placed it on the table, and 
took doAvn the Gospels from the shelf. He wanted 
to find the passage where he had last evening placed 
a strip of morocco leather by way of a marker, but 
he lit upon another place. And just as Avdy- 
eeich opened the Gospel, he recollected his dream of 
yesterday evening. And no sooner did he call it to 
mind than it seemed to him as if some persons were 
moving about and shuffling with their feet behind him. 
Avdyeeich glanced round and saw that somebody was 
indeed standing in the dark corner — yes, someone 
was really there, but who, he could not exactly make 
out. Then a voice whispered in his ear: 

" Martin ! Martin ! dost thou not know me ? " 

" Who art thou ? " cried Avdyeeich. 

" 'Tis I," cried the voice, " lo, 'tis I ! » And forth 
from the dark corner stepped Stepanuich. He smiled, 
and it was as though a little cloud were breaking, 
and he was gone. 

" It is I ! " cried the voice, and forth from the 
corner stepped a woman with a little child; and the 
71 



STORY TELLING 

woman smiled and the child laughed, and they also 
disappeared. 

" And it is I ! " cried the voice, and the old woman 
and the lad with the apple stepped forth, and both 
of them smiled, and they also disappeared. 

And the heart of Avdyeeich was glad. He crossed 
himself, put on his glasses, and began to read the 
Gospels at the place where he had opened them. 
And at the top of the page he read these words: 
" And I was an hungered and thirsty, and ye gave 
Me to drink. I was a stranger, and ye took Me in." 

And at the bottom of the page he read this : " In- 
asmuch as ye have done it to the least of these My 
brethren, ye have done it unto Me." 

And Avdyeeich understood that his dream had not 
deceived him, and that the Saviour had really come 
to him that day, and he had really received Him. 

One difference between the text of the story 
for reading and one for telling lies in the 
more colloquial style of the latter. A text 
for reading requires a certain dignity and 
precision of style which is not necessary in 
the story which is to be told, — not that the 
story teller should lower his standard of 
English, or allow himself a loose or shift- 
less style, but because the more intimate re- 
lations between the story teller and his 
audience admit of a freedom which would 
not be permissible in written form. 
72 



STORY TELLING 

A long introduction to a story may be con- 
densed for telling into a few sentences which 
will preserve the atmosphere and setting of 
the story, at the same time hastening the in- 
cidents for which the listener waits. The 
story teller must keep in mind that his audi- 
ence is preeminently interested in the devel- 
opment of the plot of the story rather than 
in descriptions or explanatory incidents. 
These he may use, but only as something 
which shall make the action of the story more 
vital and interesting. Another difference 
between the text of the story for reading and 
for telling must be made by eliminating any 
secondary stories of the written version, and 
keeping to the line of the main plot; what- 
ever does not bear directly on it may be 
considered irrelevant. 

Story telling is in no sense reading, either 
with or without a book; and while care 
should be taken to select the very best pos- 
sible version of the story for reproduction, 
it is not necessary to attempt a verbatim 
recitation of the same. 

It is impossible for one who has not spent 
much time in study to understand the sig- 
73 



STORY TELLING 

nificance and production of tone and gesture 
and all the carefully concealed machinery 
which lies back of any art. But there is one 
thing which any one must be willing to do 
before he attempts to tell stories in even the 
most unassuming way; namely, to so live 
with the literature which he is to interpret 
that he becomes filled with the spirit and at- 
mosphere of the tale and it becomes in a sense 
his own. Too much emphasis cannot be laid 
upon the necessity of this one thing. I have 
known artists who live with the stories they 
are to tell a year, sometimes two years, be- 
fore they feel that they are ready to give 
them to an audience. 

The experience of great artists in the 
dramatic world is identical in this regard. 
No matter how marvellous their memories, 
they are not guilty of running over the lines 
of a play as they go to the theatre, and re- 
producing it in the next breath. Long as- 
sociation with the character whom they are 
to impersonate is one of the essentials to an 
understanding of that character. The more 
one can know of the historical surroundings, 
the geographical setting, the manners and 
74 



STORY TELLING 

customs of the people that form the back- 
ground of a story no matter how little they 
seem to come into the story itself, the more 
the story will mean to him and the more he 
can make it mean to others, because it be- 
comes nearer like an experience of his own. 

As to the performance, to use the technical 
term, it should be remembered that story 
tellers are temperamentally as unlike as sing- 
ers, and their manner of telling a story will 
vary from a dramatic one to one of the ut- 
most simplicity; but the more they know of 
the history and customs of the first story 
tellers, troubadours, skalds, or minnesingers, 
the more they keep their art before them as 
an ideal, the more truly will they merit the 
name and earn the laurels of real story tellers. 
Imitation tends to make spontaneity impos- 
sible; but absolute freedom to tell the story 
which has made a personal appeal to the 
story teller, which he himself enjoys no mat- 
ter how others regard it, such an atmosphere 
is the only one which can insure success. An 
unpleasant association with a story during 
childhood, or a present lack of interest in it, 
will rob the story teller of the element of 
75 



STORY TELLING 

personal enjoyment in it which is vital to a 
successful rendering, and no matter how 
charming others may find it, it is not his 
story to tell. 

The important thing, of course, to con- 
sider first is the adaptability of the story to 
the age which one expects to interest. If it 
seems suited to this particular point of view 
and experience, a careful reading, perhaps 
more than one, will be necessary before it 
becomes evident where to condense, what the 
simple development of the plot is, and what 
the real climax of the story. This is neces- 
sary for a single story, or for a cycle of 
stories which, each a complete incident in it- 
self, yet form links in a chain of some one 
inclusive experience. 

The Jungle Books will serve as an excel- 
lent illustration of material which needs edit- 
ing for the use of the story teller. They are 
fascinating stories for children of fourth 
and fifth grades when they once catch the 
idea of the books, but they seem difficult and 
baffling to many children who have not been 
fortunate in their introduction to them. 

The story teller selects from the two vol- 
76 



STORY TELLING 

umes of stories those relating to Mowgll, 
and arranges them as nearly as possible in 
chronological order, thus makes a series of 
unfailing charm. 

JUNGLE STORIES 

Story 1. "MowGLi's Brothers" 

Early life. Jungle Book. 
Story 2. " Kaa's Hunting" 

Life in the jungle. Jungle Book. 
(Begin second or third sentence) 
Story 3. "How Fear Came" 

Life in the jungle. Second Jungle 
Book. 
Story 4. " Red Fire." Jungle Book. 

Page 27 — Begin : " It was a very warm 
day (when Mowgli was ten or twelve) 
that a new " — etc. 
Story 5. "Tiger! Tiger!" Jungle Book. 

(Begin second sentence) 
Story 6. " Letting in the Jungle." Second Jungle 

Book.' 
Story 7. "Red Dog." Second Jungle Book. 
Story 8. " Spring Running." Second Jungle Book. 

If the eight stories make too long a cycle, 
" Kaa's Hunting," and " How Fear Came," 
may be omitted; or, the story telling may 
be used merely to introduce the book and 
leave the children to read it themselves. 
77 



STORY TELLING 

Other stories in these collections are in- 
teresting as giving pictures of jungle life, 
but any child once having become acquainted 
with Mowgli will be eager to hear what hap- 
pened to him and what his adventures were; 
everything else is for the time being of no 
moment at all; more than that, to the real 
child nothing but a present interest has any 
existence. 

Having discussed the question of the value 
of reading aloud to children, it will be scarcely 
necessary to say, there are many pieces of 
literature that will lose so much in charm 
and effectiveness from a failure to reproduce 
their exact form, that it is far better to read 
than to tell them. Kipling's " Just-so 
Stories " are typical examples of stories 
which should be read or recited rather than 
told. 



78 



CHAPTER IV 

ARRANGING THE PROGRAM OF MISCELLANEOUS 
STORIES 

Comparison between the construction of a musical pro- 
gram and one of stories; illustrative programs; stories 
for a Japanese program; stories for a Spring program. 

TT is probable that the teacher and the 
-■• fireside story teller will find one story, or 
at the most two, sufficient for the requirements 
of their story-hours ; but the library story- 
hour will often necessitate the arrangement 
of a number of miscellaneous stories so that 
they can be given one after the other during 
a specified time. 

Some of the larger libraries have under- 
taken a series of story-hours at each of which 
a single story is told, the stories all having 
the same hero, and taken together forming a 
cycle; but by far the greater number have 
used what may be termed the miscellaneous 
program. 

79 



STORY TELLING 

This kind of program seems best adapted 
for children who have not learned to be good 
listeners, and for younger children, as they 
lack the fully developed power of concentra- 
tion which is needed if they are to listen for a 
long period at one time, without the relief 
which comes from a break in the stories and 
a change of subject. 

It is claimed that the spirit of the artist 
is revealed in his ability to " build pro- 
grams," and if this is true I am afraid that 
many story-hours have little claim to rank 
above vaudeville performances, for they 
merely shift from one " attraction" to an- 
other, without sequence or relation of any 
kind. There is, of course, some gain to the 
child from the stories themselves, provided 
the selection has been a good one, but the 
effect of one story is often much lessened 
because of the character of the one which 
preceded or which followed it. 

The construction of a program for an 
entertainment or for an isolated story-hour 
is a difficult problem ; the task becomes much 
less difficult if the audience is one which as- 
sembles regularly and is familiar with the 
80 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

stories which have been told already, for 
their interest has in a measure already been 
secured, and their attitude toward the story- 
hour is an established thing. 

In the regular story-hour, even where it is 
devoted to a variety of stories, much more can 
be accomplished when some central thought 
forms the unobtrusive background of the 
tales. Such a background is supplied when 
the eflPort is made to have the stories related 
to some special season or holiday, that un- 
derlying thought furnishing the reason for 
the selection, though, to change the figure, 
the thread which binds the units in one artis- 
tic whole may have a certain elasticity. 
Take for example, a program for Spring, 
the main portion of which will naturally be 
made of legends and stories about the season 
itself, or its birds or flowers. Into such a 
program it would be quite permissible to 
introduce a Robin Hood story, if it were 
one of those picturing the outdoor life of the 
famous outlaw, because the freedom, the for- 
est, the singing birds and even the spirit of 
adventure, have in them the very essence 
of the springtime, and the introduction of 
81 



STORY TELLING 

the human interest is always an acceptable 
contrast to fairies, dryads, and creatures of 
pure imagination. 

With stories as with music, the grouping 
may be made about the compositions of a 
single man, like an Andersen or a Grimm 
program; or it may be illustrative of a 
certain kind of stories, for example, those 
which portray the hero idea or ghost story 
type; stories characteristic of a country, 
such as Irish fairy tales or Uncle Remus 
stories ; or one may use a definite theme 
and build a program about that, making the 
secondary stories contribute to the strength 
and significance of the central thought. 

The Story Tellers' League of Adrian, 
Michigan, has made a year's program on this 
last basis, the central theme being " England 
in Story." Each program illustrates some 
phase of the subject, as for example, " Glee- 
men and minstrels," " Famous ballads and 
ballad stories " ; " Chaucer's England and 
stories from Chaucer." 

When a child has heard a thoughtfully 
conceived program, he has gained not only 
what the individual stories have meant to 
82 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

him, but the value of each story has been 
mcreased by its relation to the whole and to 
each part. 

One has only to recall some of the story- 
hours he has attended to remember the im- 
pression they made of being a mere jumble, 
in which there seemed to be neither beginning 
nor end, and certainly no underlying pur- 
pose. 

Nothing has been so suggestive in my 
own program-making as a study of musi- 
cal programs, particularly those of great 
orchestras. They attempt through a differ- 
ent medium to reach people through intellect 
and emotions as those who use the medium 
of speech should do, and the programs of 
great conductors who are masters of 
program-making show that they understand 
the psychology of this art. 

The first thing necessary in approaching 
an audience is to get control of it, to 
make it listen to what you have to say. 
This cannot be accomplished with a lullaby, 
or a delicate bit of folklore, a very gem of 
art though it may be: the very quality 
of softness and delicacy requires a set- 
83 



STORY TELLING 

ting of perfect sympathy for its production, 
and nothing has been done to create that 
sympathy. 

The orchestra is demanding attention, the 
clear notes of the overture catch the ear, and 
the audience Hstens. A song like " Hark ! 
Hark ! the Lark " has this same quality in it, 
and so is fitted to gain the attention of those 
who wait to hear. An analysis of stories 
with this in mind will discover those which 
sound the trumpet tone and so have the power 
to win attention. 

When the music, or the story, has won the 
interest of the hearers, then is the opportun- 
ity to say the larger, more serious and 
thoughtful thing, often the thing full of in- 
spiration and uplift. Here is the symphony, 
speaking to the clear, awakened thought of 
the listener, stirring his emotions and ideals, 
but appealing to his intellect as well. This 
is the body of the program, which in story 
telling may sometimes be composed of more 
than one story ; but whether one or more, its 
function should be similar to that of the sym- 
phony, having the effect produced, for ex- 
ample, by a great hero story. 
84 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

What should have been gained when the 
program has advanced thus far, is not only 
interest, but the attitude of understanding 
and appreciation, a willingness to see things 
through the eyes of the story teller. Now is 
the opportunity for the greatest thing to be 
revealed which the program has to say. This 
is the climax not only of artistic skill, but of 
thought; the end toward which all the rest 
has led. 

This does not mean that there may be only 
three numbers on the program, but rather 
that there are three movements, requiring 
more or less material to express themselves. 

For example, the opening story may be 
emphasized and its note made more dominant 
by an additional story or two of a type to 
sustain the spirit of the introduction. Again, 
after the body of the program, the hero story 
or its equivalent, it is often desirable to in- 
troduce a story of a lighter vein, perhaps a 
humorous story which shall make the climax 
stronger by the element of contrast. 

There ought to be variety of emotion, a 
proper balance of parts, so that the effect 
will not to be too sombre or too high-keyed, 
85 



STORY TELLING 

and the form of the stories should also be 
considered, so that the audience may not be 
surfeited with any one type. The legend is 
one of the most charming forms of literature 
for telling, but if one tells nothing but legends 
they lose their charm and fascination. There 
should always be a play of light and shadow, 
just a little touch of pathos, and the sug- 
gestion or clear note of humor, but, partic- 
ularly with children, the emotions should 
never be roused simply for gratifying the 
sense of power of the story teller, nor to 
produce effects by over-stimulation of their 
sensitiveness. 

It is far better to leave children eager for 
more stories than tired and restless because 
they have too many. For this reason a short 
program full of suggestiveness and incentive 
for future reading is ideal. 

The following stories have been selected 
and arranged for two programs, one giving 
a group of Japanese stories, the other with 
the central idea that of Spring. The opening 
stories of both programs have the quality of 
catching the attention of the listeners, as al- 
ready suggested, and there is a development 
86 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

in the programs which leaves the more serious 
impression for the cHmax. 

It is often a wise thing to make a short in- 
troduction before giving any of the stories, 
just a few sentences which shall give the 
proper atmosphere for the full enjoyment 
of them. Perhaps a few words about Japan 
and the charm of its picturesque customs 
and people would give the children the set- 
ting desired, or the stories themselves may 
advantageously be introduced if there is 
something of particular interest about them. 

The story teller often takes for granted that 
the audience is as familiar with the circum- 
stances connected with the origin and history 
of the stories as he is after years of study, 
when such is not the case. It is interesting to 
know, for instance, of the custom among the 
Japanese of telling certain stories regarding 
the flowers which they honor with festivals; 
or it may be a new idea to the children that 
the story of the " Stone-cutter " is only one 
of the versions of the story told almost every- 
where in the Orient. 

One must be careful not to take on the tone 
of instruction, and not to break into the at- 
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STORY TELLING 

mosphere of the program by the introduction 
of anything of a prosaic character. It is a 
mark of artistic achievement to be able to 
sustain the interest in the entire program, 
wihout letting it drop or permitting it to lose 
its distinctive characteristic. 

A PROGRAM OF JAPANESE 
STORIES ' 

The Tongue-cut Spabrow 

The White Habe and the Crocodiles 

The Boastful Bamboo 

Princess Moonbeam 

The Mibbob of Matsuyama 

The Old Man Who Brought Witheeed Trees 

TO Life 
The Stone-cutteb 

THE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW = 

Fbom Williston's " Japanese Faiby Tales " 

In a little old house in a little old village in Japan 
lived a little old man and his little old wife. 

One morning when the old woman slid open the 
screens which form the sides of the Japanese houses, 
she saw on the doorstep a poor little sparrow. She 

* Some of these stories will need abridging for telling. 

2 Copyright, Rand, McNally & Co. Used by permission. 

88 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

took him up gently and fed him. Tlien she held 
him in the bright morning sunshine until the cold 
dew was dried from his wings. Afterward she let 
him go, so that he might fly home to his nest, but he 
stayed to thank her with his songs. 

Each morning, when the pink on the mountain tops 
told that the sun was near, the sparrow perched on 
the roof of the house and sang out his joy. 

The old man and woman thanked the sparrow for 
this, for they liked to be up early and at work. But 
near them there lived a cross old woman who did not 
like to be awakened so early. At last she became so 
angry that she caught the sparrow and cut his 
tongue. Then the poor little sparrow flew away to 
his home. But he could never sing again. 

When the kind woman knew what had happened 
to her pet she was very sad. She said to her hus- 
band, " Let us go and find our poor little spar- 
row." So they started together, and asked of each 
bird by the wayside : " Do you know where the 
tongue-cut sparrow lives? Do you know where the 
tongue-cut sparrow went ? '* 

In this way they followed until they came to a 
bridge. They did not know which way to turn, and 
at first could see no one to ask. 

At last they saw a bat hanging head downward, 
taking his daytime nap. " O friend Bat, do you know 
where the tongue-cut sparrow went ? " they asked. 

" Yes. Over the bridge and up the mountain," said 
the bat. Then he blinked his sleepy eyes and was fast 
asleep again. 

They went over the bridge and up the mountain, 
but again they found two roads and did not know 
which one to take. A little field mouse peeped through 



STORY TELLING 

the leaves and grass, so they asked him, " Do you 
know where the tongue-cut sparrow went ? " 

" Yes. Down the mountain and through the woods," 
eaid the field mouse. 

Down the mountain and through the woods they 
went, and at last came to the home of their little 
friend. 

When he saw them coming the poor little sparrow 
was very happy indeed. He and his wife and children 
all came and bowed their heads down to the ground 
to show their respect. Then the sparrow rose and 
led the old man and the old woman into the house, 
while his wife and children hastened to bring them 
boiled rice, fish, cress, and sake. 

After they had feasted the sparrow wished to please 
them still more, so he danced for them what is called 
the " sparrow dance." 

When the sun began to sink the old man and woman 
started home. The sparrow brought out two baskets. 
" I would like to give you one of these," he said. 
" Which will you take ? " One basket was large and 
looked very full, while the other one seemed very 
small and light. The old people thought they would 
not take the large basket, for that might have all the 
sparrow's treasure in it, so they said, " The way is 
long and we are very old, so please let us take the 
smaller one." 

They took it and walked home over the mountain 
and across the bridge, happy and contented. 

When they reached their own home they decided to 
open the basket and see what the sparrow had given 
them. Within the basket they found many rolls of 
silk and piles of gold, enough to make them rich, so 
they were more grateful than ever to the sparrow. 

90 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

Tlie cross old woman who had cut the sparrow's 
tongue was peering in through the screen when they 
opened their basket. She saw the rolls of silk and 
piles of gold, and planned how she might get some 
for herself. 

The next morning she went to the kind woman and 
said, " I am so sorry that I cut the tongue of your 
sparrow. Please tell me the way to his home so 
that I may go to him and tell him I am sorry." 

The kind woman told her the way and she set out. 
She went across the bridge, over the mountain, and 
through the woods. At last she came to the home of 
the little sparrow. 

He was not so glad to see this old woman, yet he 
was very kind to her and did everything to make her 
feel welcome. They made a feast for her, and when 
she started home the sparrow brought out two bas- 
kets as before. Of course the woman chose the large 
basket, for she thought that would have even more 
wealth than the other one. 

It was very heavy, and caught on the trees as she 
was going through the wood. She could hardly pull 
it up the mountain with her, and she was all out of 
breath when she reached the top. She did not get 
to the bridge until it was dark. Then she was so 
afraid of dropping the basket into the river that she 
scarcely dared to step. 

When at last she reached home she was so tired 
that she was half dead, but she pulled the screens 
close shut, so that no one could look in, and opened 
her treasure. 

Treasure indeed! A whole swarm of horrible crea- 
tures burst from the basket the moment she opened 
it. They stung her and bit her, they pushed her and 

91 



STORY TELLING 

pulled her, they scratched her and laughed at her 
Bcreams. 

At last she crawled to the edge of the room and 
slid aside the screen to get away from the pests. Tlie 
moment the door was opened they swooped down upon 
her, picked her up, and flew away with her. Since 
then nothing has ever been heard of the old woman. 



THE WHITE HAKE AND THE CROCODILES* 

From Ozaki's "The Japanese Faiby Book" 

Long, long ago, when all the animals could talk, 
there lived in the province of Inaba in Japan, a little 
white hare. His home was on the island of Oki, and 
just across the sea was the mainland of Inaba. 

Now the hare wanted very much to cross over to 
Inaba. Day after day he would go out and sit on 
the shore and look longingly over the water in the 
direction of Inaba, and day after day he hoped to 
find some way of getting across. 

One day as usual, the hare was standing on the 
beach, looking towards the mainland across the water, 
when he saw a great crocodile swimming near the 
island. 

"This is very lucky! " thought the hare. " Now I 
shall be able to get my wish. I will ask the crocodile 
to carry me across the sea! " 

But he was doubtful whether the crocodile would 
consent to do what he asked, so he thought instead of 
asking a favor he would try to get what he wanted 
by a trick. 

* Copyright, E. P. Dutton & Co. Used by permission. 
92 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

So with a loud voice he called to the crocodile, and 
said: 

" Oh, Mr. Crocodile, is n't it a lovely day? " 

The crocodile, who had come out all by itself that 
day to enjoy the bright sunshine, was just beginning 
to feel a bit lonely when the hare's cheerful greeting 
broke the silence. The crocodile swam nearer the 
Bhore, very pleased to hear someone speak. 

" I wonder who it was that spoke to me just now ! 
Was it you, Mr Hare? You must be very lonely all 
by yourself! " 

" Oh, no, I am not at all lonely," said the hare, 
*' but as it was such a fine day I came out here to 
enjoy myself. Won't you stop and play with me a 
little while?" 

The crocodile came out of the sea and sat on the 
shore, and the two played together for some time. 
Then the hare said: 

"Mr. Crocodile, you live in the sea and I live on 
this island, and we do not often meet, so I know very 
little about you. Tell me, do you think the number of 
your company is greater than mine ? " 

" Of course there are more crocodiles than hares," 
answered the crocodile. " Can you not see that lor 
yourself? You live on this small island, while I live 
in the sea, which spreads through all parts of the 
world; so if I call together all the crocodiles who 
dwell in the sea you hares will be as nothing com- 
pared to us! " The crocodile was very conceited. 

The hare, who meant to play a trick on the croco- 
dile, said: 

" Do you think it possible for you to call up enough 
crocodiles to form a line from this island across the 
sea to Inaba ? " 

93 



STORY TELLING 

The crocodile thought for a moment, and then 
answered : 

"Of course it is possible." 

"Then do try," said the artful hare, "and I will 
count the number from here! " 

The crocodile, who was very simple-minded, and 
who hadn't the least idea that the hare intended to 
play a trick on him, agreed to do what the hare asked, 
and said: 

" Wait a little while I go back into the sea and call 
my company together! " 

The crocodile plunged into the sea and was gone 
for some time. The hare, meanwhile, waited patiently 
on the shore. At last the crocodile appeared, bringing 
with him a large number of other crocodiles. 

" Look, Mr. Hare ! " said the crocodile, " it is noth- 
ing for my friends to form a line between here and 
Inaba. There are enough crocodiles to stretch from 
here even as far as China or India. Did you ever see 
so many crocodiles ? " 

Then the whole company of crocodiles arranged 
themselves in the water so as to form a bridge between 
the island of Oki and the mainland of Inaba. When 
the hare saw the bridge of crocodiles, he said: 

" How splendid ! I did not believe this was pos- 
sible. Now let me count you all! To do this, how- 
ever, with your permission, I must walk over on your 
backs to the other side, so please be so good as not 
to move, or else I shall fall into the sea and be 
drowned! " 

So the hare hopped off the island on to the strange 
bridge of crocodiles, counting as he jumped from one 
crocodile's back to the other: 

"Please keep quite still, or I shall not be able to 
94 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

count. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, 
nine " 

Thus the cunning hare walked right across to the 
mainland of Inaba. Not content with getting his wish, 
he began to jeer at the crocodiles instead of thank- 
ing them and said, as he leapt oil the last one's 
back : 

" Oh ! you stupid crocodiles, now I have done with 
you! " 

And he was just about to run away as fast as he 
could. But he did not escape so easily, for as soon 
as the crocodiles understood that this was a trick 
played upon them by the hare so as to enable him to 
cross the sea, and that the hare was now laughing 
at them for their stupidity, they became furiously 
angry and made up their minds to take revenge. So 
some of them ran after the hare and caught him. 
Then all surrounded the poor little animal and pulled 
out all his fur. He cried out loudly and entreated 
them to spare him, but with each tuft of fur they 
pulled out, they said: 

" Serve you right ! " 

When the crocodiles had pulled out the last bit of 
fur, they threw the poor hare on the beach, and all 
swam away laughing at what they had done. 

The hare was now in a pitiful plight, all his beau- 
tiful white fur had been pulled out, and his bare 
little body was quivering with pain and bleeding all 
over. He could hardly move, and all he could do was 
to lie on the beach quite helpless and weep over the 
misfortune that had befallen him. Notwithstand- 
ing that it was his own fault that had brought all 
this misery and suffering upon the white hare of 
Inaba, anyone seeing the poor little creature could 

95 



STORY TELLING 

not help feeling sorry for him in his sad condition, 
for the crocodiles had been very cruel in their 
revenge. 

Just at this time a number of men, who looked like 
kings' sons, happened to pass by, and seeing the hare 
lying on the beach crying, stopped and asked what was 
the matter. 

The hare lifted up his head from between his paws, 
and answered them, saying: 

" I had a fight with some crocodiles, but I was 
beaten, and they pulled out all my fur and left me 
to suffer here — that is why I am crying." 

Now one of these young men had a bad and spiteful 
disposition. But he feigned kindness, and said to the 
hare: 

" I feel very sorry for you. If you will only try it, 
I know of a remedy which will cure your sore body. 
Go and bathe yourself in the sea, and then come and 
sit in the wind. This will make your fur grow again, 
and you will be just as you were before." 

Then all the young men passed on. The hare was 
very pleased, thinking that he had found a cure. He 
went and bathed in the sea and then came out and 
sat where the wind could blow upon him. 

But as the wind blew and dried him, his skin be- 
came drawn and hardened, and the salt increased the 
pain so much that he rolled on the sand in his agony 
and cried aloud. 

Just then another king's son passed by, carrying a 
great bag on his back. He saw the hare, and stopped 
and asked why he was crying so loudly. 

But the poor hare, remembering that he had been 
deceived by one very like the man who now spoke to 
him, did not answer, but continued to cry. 

96 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

But this man had a kind heart, and looked at the 
hare very pityingly, and said: 

" You poor thing! I see that your fur is all pulled 
out and that your skin is quite bare. Who can have 
treated you so cruelly ? " 

When the hare heard these kind words he felt 
very grateful to the man, and encouraged by his gentle 
manner the hare told him all that had befallen him. 
The little animal hid nothing from his friend, but told 
him frankly how he had played a trick on the croco- 
diles and how he had come across the bridge they 
had made, thinking that he wished to count their 
number; how he had jeered at them for their stupid- 
ity, and then how the crocodiles had revenged them- 
selves on him. Tlien he went on to say how he had 
been deceived by a party of men who looked very like 
his kind friend; and the hare ended his long tale of 
woe by begging the man to give him some medicine 
that would cure him and make his fur grow again. 

Wlien the hare had finished his story, the man was 
full of pity towards him, and said: 

" I am very sorry for all you have suffered, but 
remember, it was only the consequence of the deceit 
you practised on the orocodiles." 

" I know," answered the sorrowful hare, " but I have 
repented and made up my mind never to use deceit 
again, so I beg you to show me how I may cure my 
sore body and make the fur grow again." 

" Then I will tell you of a good remedy," said the 
man. " First go and bathe well in that pond over 
there and try to wash all the salt from your body. 
Then pick some of those kaha flowers that are grow- 
ing near the edge of the water, spread them on the 
ground and roll yourself on them. If you do this the 

97 



STORY TELLING 

pollen will cause your fur to grow again, and you will 
be quite well in a little while." 

The hare was very glad to be told what to do so 
kindly. He crawled to the pond pointed out to him, 
bathed well in it, and then picked the kaha flowers 
growing near the water, and rolled himself on them. 

To his amazement, even while he was doing this, he 
saw his nice white fur growing again, the pain ceased, 
and he felt just as he had done before all his mis- 
fortunes. 

The hare was overjoyed at his quick recovery, and 
went hopping joyfully towards the young man who 
had so helped him, and kneeling down at his feet, 
said: 

" I cannot express my thanks for all you have done 
for me! It is my earnest wish to do something for 
you in return. Please tell me who you are ? " 

" I am no king's son, as you think me. I am a 
fairy, and my name is Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto," an- 
swered the man, " and those beings who passed here 
before me are my brothers. They have heard of a 
beautiful princess called Yakami who lives in tliisi 
province of Inaba, and they are on their way to find 
her and to ask her to marry one of them. But on 
this expedition, I am only an attendant, so I am 
walking behind them with this great bag on my; 
back." 

The hare humbled himself before this great fairy, 
Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto, whom many in that part of 
the land worshipped as a god. 

" Oh, I did not know that you were Okuni-nushi- 
no-Mikoto. How kind you have been to me! It is 
impossible to believe that that unkind fellow who sent 
me to bathe in the sea is one of your brothers. I am 
quite sure that the Princess whom your brothers 

98 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

have gone to seek will refuse to be the bride of any 
of them, and will prefer you for your goodness of 
heart. I am quite sure that you will win her heart 
without intending to do so, and she will ask to he 
your bride." 

Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto took no notice of what the 
hare said, but bidding the little animal good-bye, 
went on his way quickly, and soon overtook hia 
brothers. He found them just entering the Prin- 
cess's gate. 

Just as the hare had said, the Princess could not 
be persuaded to become the bride of any of the 
brothers, but when she looked at the kind brother's 
face she went straight up to him and said: 

" To you I give myself." And so they were married. 

This is the end of the story. Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto 
is worshipped by the people in some parts of Japan, 
as a god, and the hare has become famous as " The 
White Hare of Inaba." But what became of the 
crocodiles nobody knows. 

THE BOASTFUL BAMBOO^ 

From Roulet's " Japanese Folk Stories and 
Fairy Tales " 

Beneath the gleaming snows of Fuji lay a great 

forest. There many giant trees grew, the fir, the pine, 

the graceful bamboo, and the camellia trees. The 

balmy azaleas and the crinkled iris bloomed in the 

shade. The blue heavens were fleecy with snowy 

clouds, and gentle zephyrs caressed the blossoms and 

made them bow like worshippers before a shrine. 

Side by side there grew two bamboo trees. One 

^ Copyright, American Book Company. Used by permisBion. 

99 



STORY TELLING 

of these was tall, strong, and stately; and he 
reared his haughty head to heaven and bowed not to 
the North Wind as he passed. The other was a 
slender bamboo, so slight and delicate that it swayed 
with every breeze, and moaned with fright when a 
storm swept down the wrath of the mountain. 

The children loved the graceful bamboo, and named 
her Silver Mist; but the big bamboo looked down 
upon her with scorn. 

" You bend and bow to every breeze. Have you 
no pride? It is not fitting that a bamboo should 
show fear. I stand straight and strong and bow to 
no one," he said. 

" You are going to. be of some great use in the 
world, I am sure," said the humble bamboo. " I am 
only fit to trim the houses for the New Year's 
feast. But you will become a beam in some great 
house or, maybe, even in a palace." 

" Do you think I shall be only that," cried the 
boastful bamboo with a scornful laugh. " I am 
indeed intended for something great. I think I shall 
be chosen for the mast of a mighty ship. Then will 
the wings of the ship swell with the breeze, and it 
will fly over the ocean, and I shall see strange lands 
and new peoples. All men will behold me and will 
say, • See the stately bamboo which graces yonder 
junk! * As for you, poor timorous one, you are not 
even brave enough to deck the New Year's feast. 
You will be used to make mats for people to tread 
under foot." 

The slim little bamboo did not answer back. She 
only bent her head and cried bitterly. The flowers 
felt sorry for her and breathed their soft perfume 
about her to comfort her. 

100 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

As the days went by the slim bamboo grew pret- 
tier, and the cliildren loved her more and more. 
They played beneath her waving branches, they made 
flower chains and garlands and hung them from her 
boughs. 

" See," they cried in childish glee. " This is the 
Lady Silver Mist. Let us tie a flower ohi around her 
slender waist " ; and they bound a girdle of flowers 
about her. 

One day there came woodmen to the forest, and 
they chopped down many of the trees, trampling the 
grass and the flowers under foot. When they saw 
the big bamboo they said: 

" Here is a tall straight tree. It will do for a 
mast. We will cut it flrst." 

" Good-bye," said the boastful bamboo to the slen- 
der one. " I am going to sec the world and do great 
things. Good-bye, child, I hope you will not be used 
to make rain coats. When I am on the bright and 
beautiful sea I shall remember and pity you! " 

" Good-bye," sighed his little comrade. " Good for- 
tune go with you." 

The big bamboo was cut down, and the hillside 
saw him no more. When, however, the woodmen came 
to the little tree, they smiled to see it so beautifully 
garlanded with flowers and they said, " This little tree 
has friends." 

Then the children took courage and ran to the 
woodcutters and cried, " Pray do not cut down our 
tree! In all the forest we love it best. It is the 
Lady Silver Mist and it has been our playmate for 
many moons." 

" You must dig it up and bear it away if you wish 
to save its life," said the chief woodman. ** We are 

101 



STORY TELLING 

sent to this forest to clear it, so that a grand palace 
may be built upon the hillside where all is so fair 
and beautiful." 

" Gladly will we root her up and take her to our 
home/' answered the eldest child; and very care- 
fully they dug her up, not destroying even a single 
root, for the woodman helped them, so kind was he 
and of a good heart. 

They placed the slim bamboo in a lovely garden 
beside the sea, and she grew fair and stately and 
was happy. All around was calm and beautiful. 
The sea waves lapped the coral strand. By day, the 
sun shone on the tawny sands and turned them to 
gold; the sky was blue as a turquoise, and pearly 
clouds floated across it like shadowy angel's wings. 
By night the moon goddess rose in silvery beauty and 
bathed the garden in light; it kissed the leaves of 
the bamboo, until the dew sparkled upon them like 
diamonds in a setting of silver. 

Fragrant flowers bloomed at the bamboo's feet: 
irises from their meadow home, azaleas, rare lotus 
lilies, and a fringe of purple wistaria wafting its 
breath in friendship upon her. Here she grew in 
strengtli and grace. All things were her friends, for 
she gave to all of her sweetness; and to the winds 
she bowed her head. 

" Great North Wind," she said gently, " how thou 
art strong! " And to the South Wind she said, 
*' How sweet and kind thou art! " To the flowers she 
gave shade and to the children, who still loved her, 
companionship. 

One night she shivered and bowed her head very, 
very low, for there came a storm from the sea, a 
storm so fierce and wild as to frighten her very 

102 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

soul. The waves of the sea tossed the white foam 
heavenward; they rose up in giant walls of fury 
until ships sunk in the troughs between and were 
dashed to pieces. The beach was strewn with 
wrecks, and when daylight came, Lady Silver Mist 
gazed upon the scene. She recognized her old friend, 
the great bamboo, prostrate upon the ground, while 
all around him lay bits of the junk over which he 
had reared his haughty head. 

" Alas ! my poor friend ! " she cried. " What a sad 
fate is yours! Would that I could aid you! " 

" No one can help me, " he replied with a moan. 
" Would that I had been made into a common coolie 
pole with which to push a country junk! Then 
might I have been useful for many years! No, my 
heart is broken. Silver Mist. Farewell." 

He gave a long shuddering sigh and spoke no more. 
Soon some men, who came to clear up the wreckage, 
chopped the mast up for firewood; and that was the 
end of the boastful bamboo. 



THE PRINCESS MOONBEAM^ 

From Roulet's " Japanese Folk Stories and 
Fairy Tales" 

A WOODMAN once dwelt with his wife at the edge of 
the forest, under the shadow of the Honorable Moun- 
tain. The two were industrious and good, but though 
tliey loved each other they were not happy. No' 
children had come to bless them and this the wife 
mourned deeply. 

Tlie husband pitied her and treated her very kindly, 

^ Copyright, American Book Company. Used by permission. 

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STORY TELLING 

yet still she was sad. As she gazed upon the snows 
of Fujiyama her heart swelled within her and she 
prostrated herself and said, " Fuji no yama, Hon- 
orable Mountain, my heart is heavy because no 
childish arms encircle my neck, no little head nestles 
in my bosom. From thy eternal purity send some 
little white soul to comfort me! " 

The Honorable Mountain spoke not; yet as she 
prayed, lo, from its heights there sparkled and glowed 
a tiny light. Fitful and gleaming it seemed, yet it 
had a silver radiance as of the moon. 

The woodman's wife beheld it, and she called to her 
husband eagerly, " Come hither, I pray you. See 
the strange light which comes from Fuji San. I 
seem to see a face smiling at me. It is the face 
of a little child! " 

Then her husband smiled at her fancy, but, be- 
cause he loved her, he said indulgently, " I will go 
and see what it is." 

" I thank you, my lord ; go quickly ! " she replied. 
So quickly he went to the forest, and as he 
neared a mountain stream, with Fuji gleaming cold 
and white in the moonlight, he saw the strange light, 
which seemed to hover and rest upon the branches 
of a tall bamboo. Hastening thither he found there 
a moon child, a tiny, fragile, fairy thing, more 
beautiful than any child he had ever seen. 

"Little creature," he said. "Who are you?" 
" My name is Princess Moonbeam," she answered 
sweetly. " My mother is the Moon Lady, and she 
has sent me to Earth because every moon child must 
do some good thing, else will its silvery light be- 
come pale and wan and be of no avail." 

" Little Princess," he said eagerly, " the best of 

104 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

good deeds is to comfort a sad heart. Come home 
with me and be a child to my wife, who weeps for 
children. Thus will your beams grow bright." 

" I will go with you," said the little Moonbeam, 
and, rejoicing greatly, he bore her tenderly to his 
wife. 

" I bring you a treasure," he said. " The Moon Lady 
sends you this beam of light to lighten your sad 
heart." 

Then was his wife much overjoyed, and she took 
the little creature to her bosom and cared for her. 

Lovelier grew the Moon Child every year and much 
she rejoiced the hearts of her foster parents. Her 
hair was like a golden aureole about her face. Her 
eyes were deep and tender, her cheeks were pale 
and delicate, and about her there was a subtle and 
unearthly charm. Every one loved her, even the em- 
peror's son, who, hunting in the forest, saw her light- 
ing up the humble cottage with her heavenly light. 
He loved her dearly and she loved him, but alas! she 
could not marry him because her life upon earth 
could be but twenty years. Then she must return to 
her home in the moon, for so willed her mother the 
Moon Lady, 

At last the day came when she must go. Her par- 
ents wept, and could not be consoled; and her lover, 
who was now the Emperor, could not keep her, al- 
though he besought High Heaven to spare her. 

Her mother caught her up in a silver moonbeam; 
and all the way to the moon the little Princess wept 
silvery tears. As the tears fell from her eyes, lo! 
they took wings and floated away, looking for the 
form of her beloved, the Emperor, who might see her 
no more. 

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STORY TELLING 

But the silver-briglit tears are seen to this day- 
floating hither and yon about tlie vales and marshes 
of fair Nippon. The children chase them with happy 
cries, and say, " See the fireflies ! How fair they are ! 
Whence came they ? " 

Then their mothers relate to them the legend and 
say, " These are the tears of the little Princess, flit- 
ting to seek her beloved " ; and over all, calm and 
eternal, smiles the Honorable Mountain. 



THE MIRROR OF MATSUYAMA 

Told by a Teachee in Japan 

Once long, ago in Matsuyama, there lived a father 
and mother and little girl. TTiey were very happy, 
for they loved each other dearly. 

One day a very exciting thing happened, when the 
father came home with the news that the Emperor had 
sent for him to come to Tokio. The little girl was 
very glad, because she knew her father would have 
such interesting things to tell when he came back, and 
perhaps he would bring her some presents, too. The 
mother was very proud, because no one had ever been 
sent for by the Emperor before, and the father was 
proud too; only he knew how long he would be gone, 
for there were no trains, and he had no horse, so he 
must walk all the way there and back. 

At last the day came when the father was to set 
out, and the mother took the little girl by the hand, 
and the three of them walked through the village till 
they came to the path which led up the mountain. 
They said " Good-bye " and the mother and little girl 

106 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

stood and watched the father till he disappeared up 
the mountain; then they did just what mothers and 
little girls have always done, they went home and 
began to count on their fingers the days before his 
return. 

At last the days ran away, the very day came when 
the father was expected, and hand in hand the mother 
and little girl went to the foot of the mountain where 
they had said good-bye and waited. By-and-by they 
caught a glimpse of some one coming through the 
trees of the forest, and, sure enough, there was the 
father. 

Oh! how glad the little girl was to see him again, 
and how happy the mother was to have her husband 
again! The father brought some presents for the little 
girl, — a slant-eyed dolly, and a queer little canton- 
flannel monkey that ran up and down a pole when 
you pulled a string, and, last of all, something which 
they called a dragon-fly. It did n't look like a dragon- 
fly, but when you twisted it in your fingers, it spread 
its wings and flew away like a real dragon-fly. 

As soon as the little girl had looked at all her pres- 
ents and heard of the wonderful things her father had 
seen, she ran away to play. 

When they were alone, the father took out a white 
box and handed it to his wife. " Here is a present 
for you, my dear," he said. 

His wife opened the box and looked in. There was 
a round shining silver thing, with beautiful carved 
fruit and flowers on it, and when she turned it over, 
it was smooth and shining like a pool of water. 

She leaned over to look at it more closely and she 
exclaimed, " Oh ! what a beautiful picture." Then 
her eyes grew large with wonder. " How strange," 

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STORY TELLING 

she cried, " her dress is blue like mine, and her eyes 
are like mine; and when I talk she seems to be talk- 
ing too! " 

Then her husband laughed, " That 's a mirror," he 
said. " All the ladies in Tokio have them, and that 
is yourself you are looking at." 

She took the box to her room, and put it away, but 
ever she found herself going to it, and looking in, for 
she loved to see how her eyes shone and how red her 
lips were. 

One day she said to herself, " Why should I look so 
much at myself? Surely I 'm no more beautiful than 
many other women. I will put the mirror away and 
look at it only once every year to see if my face is 
full of as much joy as it has been." 

So she put the mirror away, and only once in the 
year did she open the box and look at her face. 

The years passed by, and the little girl grew from 
a girl to a woman and put away her toys and 
her dolls. As she grew older, she grew every day to 
look more and more like her mother, until, when 
she was a woman, she was the very image of her 
mother. 

Finally, a great sadness came into the home. The 
mother was taken ill, and though the father and 
daughter did all they could, they could not bring 
health to her again. One day she called to her daugh- 
ter and said, " My dear, I know I am soon going to 
take the long journey from whence none ever return. 
I want you to have something which will always re- 
mind you of me. Go now and bring the white box 
from my room, and look in." 

The daughter went and found the white box, and 
when she opened it and looked in, as her mother had 

108 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

done so long before, she cried out, " Oh, mother ! Why, 
mother, it 's you! Not tired and sick as you are now, 
but young and beautiful as I remember you, when 
I was a little girl ! " And her mother said, " Yes, 
that is my face. I want you to open the box and look 
at my face when I am gone, twice every day. Be sure 
and bring only smiles, then I will smile back at you, 
but if you bring tears, then you will see only tears 
and sadness in my face." 

When the mother had gone, never to return, the 
daughter remembered her words. 

Twice every day, once when the sky was pink 
with the rising sun, and once when it set red in the 
west, she opened the box and looked at the face of 
her mother. And always she tried to bring nothing 
but smiles when she opened the box, so her mother's 
face would smile back at her. 

The version as given in Ozaki's " Japanese 
Fairy Book " and in Ballard's " Fairy Tales 
from Far Japan" has an added incident of 
a stepmother which is not given in the text 
here. It was not told to the author by the 
teacher who gave the version just quoted, and 
it seems likely that it may have been added 
in some recitals as the incident of the ogre- 
mother is given in some versions of the " Sleep- 
ing Beauty." 

The dramatic climax for the story teller 
certainly is the death of the mother, and the 
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STORY TELLING 

influence of the mirror in the life of the 
daughter, as in the text here given. 

THE OLD MAN WHO BROUGHT WITHERED 
TREES TO LIFE^ 

From Loed's "The Touch of Nature" 

Long, long ago, the Japanese story teller says, a good 
old man and his wife bought a dog. They had no 
children, poor old people, so they lavished all their 
attentions on the dog. The old lady used to say 
roguishly to her more fortunate neighbors, " I think 
I can see how people get fond of children if they can't 
have a dog." The dog got all the dainty bits from 
their table, and of course he grew as fond of his 
owners as they were of him. One day they noticed 
the dog was making a terrible fuss in the little gar- 
den behind the house, throwing up the dirt with his 
paws, and working away for dear life, stopping now 
and then to bark, and then going at the hole he had 
made in the ground with fresh vigor and a great wag- 
ging of his tail. They thought he must be after some 
animal, perhaps a mischievous rat which had been 
raiding their pantry; so they ran out to help him 
with hoe and spade. What was their surprise and 
delight when just a few feet below ground they came 
across a great chest full of gold and silver and all 
sorts of precious things. Out of it they gave gener- 
ous gifts to the poor, and with what was left they 
bought some fine rice-fields, and soon became very rich. 
Now in the very next house on the same road there 

1 Copyright, American Unitarian Association. Used by 
permission. 

110 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

lived a bad old man and liis wife; and as soon as 
they heard the cause of their neighbors' good luck, 
they borrowed the dog, and after giving him a great 
feast, led him into their garden by a string; but al- 
though they patted and petted him, lie never offered 
to dig anywhere, and not a bark or a wag of the tail 
could they get out of him. He kept liis tail between 
his legs, and made frantic efforts to get away and 
run back home. Then the old man got angry and 
beat the dog, who, when he was led around the garden 
once more, stopped by a bush and began to sniff. The 
old couple thought treasure must surely be hidden 
there, and began to dig; but all they found was an 
old bone. Then they killed the dog and buried him 
under a pine-tree. 

Well, the days went on, and the dog did not come 
home; and by-and-by the wicked old man had to 
tell what had happened. Then the dog's master went 
to the grave and strewed flowers on it, and burned 
incense over it, and set a tray full of food near it 
for the dog's spirit to take on his journey to the 
spirit land, where all good dogs go when they die, and 
went home feeling very lonely and sad; for he loved 
the dog and missed iiim. 

That night the dog appeared to him in a dream and 
told him to cut down the pine-tree and make from the 
trunk near the roots a mortar and pestle, and to 
think of them as if they were his lost pet. Now of 
course the wicked old man, having killed the dog, did 
not dare to refuse the request of his neighbor; so 
the tree was cut down, and the mortar and pestle 

made. 

It turned out to be a wonderful mortar; for when- 
ever the good old man ground his rice in it, the rice 
111 



STORY TELLING 

was changed into jewels. Then the neighbors came 
to borrow the mortar; now of course it was foolish 
to lend it to them, after what had happened to the 
dog. But the old man was perfectly willing that 
every one should share in his good fortune. No 
sooner did the bad-hearted neighbors put rice into the 
mortar, however, than the rice became dirt. In a 
rage they threw mortar and pestle into the fire and 
burned them up. 

The simple-souled old owner of the mortar won- 
dered why it was not returned, until one night the 
dog again appeared in a dream, and after revealing 
the meanness and treachery of the old couple next 
door, told the good old man to gather up the ashes of 
the mortar, for they were very precious. Just a pinch 
of them thrown in the air among the branches of a 
withered tree would cause it to revive and break out 
into full blossom. So the old man, grieving over the 
loss of his treasure, ran to his neighbors' house and 
asked for the ashes, which they gave him willingly, 
congratulating themselves that they had escaped pun- 
ishment, and laughing at the old man's foolishness. 

When the old man got home, he climbed up into a 
withered cherry-tree in his garden and threw a pinch 
of the precious ashes into the air. Sure enough, 
every twig broke out into blossom, and the air was 
sweet with their fragrance. Then, taking the ashes, 
the old man, intent on giving pleasure to other people 
also, journeyed through the country, and everywhere 
he went the withered cherry-trees and plum-trees and 
peach-trees blossomed as no trees ever blossomed be- 
fore; and all the land was filled with light and color. 
News of the marvel soon reached the prince, who sent 
for the old man, and after witnessing in the palace 

112 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

gardens an exhibition of his skill, gave him a present 
of fine silks and thanked him heartily for so beauti- 
fying the land. 

Now the bad neighbor, who had not cared at all 
about what his old acquaintance had been doing be- 
fore, the moment he heard of the prince's reward, 
gathered up some of the ashes of the mortar that 
remained where it had been burnt, and hastening to 
the castle town, proclaimed that he also could bring 
dead trees to life. But when he climbed up in a 
dead plum-tree and threw the ashes into the air, not 
a blossom appeared; but the ashes flew into the 
prince's eyes. Then the servants seized the old man 
and beat him and threw him out of the palace garden. 

So the dog brought joy to his friends, confusion to 
his foes, and beauty to the whole country-side. 

THE STONE-CUTTERS 

From Lang's "Cbimson Faibt Book" 

Once upon a time there lived a stone-cutter who 
went every day to a great rock in the side of a big 
mountain and cut out slabs for gravestones or for 
houses. He understood very well the kinds of stones 
wanted for the different purposes, and as he was a 
careful workman he had plenty of customers. For a 
long time he was quite happy and contented, and 
asked for nothing better than what he had. 

Now in the mountains dwelt a spirit which now 
and then appeared to men, and helped them in many 
ways to become rich and prosperous. The stone- 
cutter, however, had never seen this spirit, and only 
shook his head, with an unbelieving air, when any- 

* Copyright, Longmans, Green, «fe Co. Used by permission. 
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STORY TELLING 

one spoke of it. But a time was coming when he 
learned to change his opinion. 

One day the stone-cutter carried a gravestone to 
the house of a rich man, and saw there all sorts of 
beautiful things, of which he had never even dreamed. 
Suddenly his daily work seemed to grow harder and 
heavier, and he said to himself, " Oh, if I were only 
a rich man, and could sleep in a bed with silken cur- 
tains and golden tassels, how happy I should be! " 

And a voice answered him, "Your wish is heard; 
a rich man you shall be! " 

At the sound of the voice the stone-cutter looked 
round, but could see nobody. He thought it was all 
his fancy, and picked up his tools and went home, for 
he did not feel inclined to do any more work that 
day. But when he reached the little house where he 
lived, he stood still with amazement; for instead of 
his wooden hut was a stately palace filled with splen- 
did furniture, and most splendid of all was the bed, 
in every respect like the one he had envied. He was 
nearly beside himself with joy, and in his new life 
the old one was soon forgotten. 

It was now the beginning of summer, and each day 
the sun blazed more fiercely. One morning the heat 
was so great that the stone-cutter could scarcely 
breathe, and he determined he would stop at home 
till the evening. He was rather dull, for he had never 
learned how to amuse himself, and was peeping 
through the closed blinds to see what was going on 
in the street, when a little carriage passed by, drawn 
by servants dressed in blue and silver. In the car- 
riage sat a prince, and over his head a golden um- 
brella was held, to protect him from the sun's rays. 

"Oh, if I were only a prince!" said the stone- 

114 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

cutter to himself, as the carriage vanished around the 
corner. " Oh, if I were only a prince, and could go 
in such a carriage and have a golden umbrella held 
over me, how happy I should be! " 

And the voice of the mountain spirit answered, 
" Your wish is heard ; a prince you shall be." 

And a prince he was. Before his carriage rode one 
company of men and another behind it; servants 
dressed in scarlet and gold bore him along; the cov- 
eted umbrella was held over his head; everything 
heart could desire was his. But yet it was not 
enough. He looked round still for something to wish 
for, and when he saw that in spite of the water he 
poured on his grass the rays of the sun scorched it, 
and that in spite of the umbrella held over his head 
each day his face grew browner and browner, he cried 
in his anger, " The sun is mightier than I ; oh, if I 
were only the sun! " 

And the mountain spirit answered, " Your wish is 
heard; the sun you shall be." 

And the sun he was, and he felt himself proud in 
his power. He shot his beams above and below, on 
earth and in heaven; and he burnt up the grass in 
the fields and scorched the faces of princes as well 
as of poorer folk. But in a short time he began to 
grow tired of his might, for there seemed nothing 
left for him to do. Discontent once more filled his 
soul, and when a cloud covered his face, and hid the 
earth from him, he cried in his anger, " Does the 
cloud hold captive my rays, and is it mightier than 
I ? Oh, that I were a cloud and mightier than any ! " 

And the mountain spirit answered : " Your wish is 
heard; a cloud you shall be! " 

And a cloud he was, and lay between the sun and 

115 



STORY TELLING 

the earth. He caught the sun's beams and held 
them, and to his joy the earth grew green again 
and flowers blossomed. But that was not enough for 
him, and for days and weeks he poured forth rain 
till the rivers overflowed their banks and the crops 
of rice stood in water. Towns and villages were de- 
stroyed by the power of the rain, only the great 
rock on the mountain side remained unmoved. The 
cloud was amazed at the sight, and cried in wonder, 
" Is the rock, then, mightier than I ? Oh, if I were 
only the rock! " 

And the mountain spirit answered : " Your wish 
is heard; the rock you shall be! " 

And the rock he was, and gloried in his power. 
Proudly he stood, and neither the heat of the sun 
nor the force of the rain could move him. " This is 
better than all! " he said to himself. But one day 
he heard a strange noise at his feet, and when he 
looked down to see what it could be, he saw a stone- 
cutter driving tools into his surface. Even while he 
looked a trembling feeling ran all through him, and 
a great block broke off" and fell upon the ground. 
Then he cried in his wrath, " Is a mere child of earth 
mightier tlian a rock? Oh, if I were only a man! " 

And the mountain spirit answered : " Your wish is 
heard. A man once more you shall be! " 

And a man he was, and in the sweat of his brow 
he toiled again at his trade of stone-cutting. His 
bed was hard and his food scanty, but he had learned 
to be satisfied with it, and did not long to be some- 
thing or somebody else. And as he never asked for 
things he had not got, or desired to be greater or 
mightier than other people, he was happy at last, and 
heard the voice of the mountain spirit no longer. 

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MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

A PROGRAM OF SPRING STORIES 

What Was Hee Name? 

The Woodpecker 

How THE Robin's Breast Became Red 

Little Ida's Flowers 

Old Pipes and the Dryad 

The Monk and the Bird 



WHAT WAS HER NAME?^ 
From Richards' " Five Minute Stories " 

** Wake up ! " said an old gentleman, dressed in 
brown and white, as he gently shook the shoulder of 
a young lady in green, who was lying sound asleep 
under the trees. "Wake up, ma'am! it is your 
watch now, and time for me to take myself off." 
The young lady stirred a very little, and opened one 
of her eyes the least little bit. "Who are you?" 
she said drowsily. " What is your name ? " 

"My name is Winter," replied the old man. 
"What is yours?" ' 

" I have not the faintest idea," said the lady, clos- 
ing her eyes again. 

" Humph ! " growled the old man, " a pretty per- 
son you are to take my place! Well, good-day, 
Madam Sleepyhead, and good luck to you! " 

And off he stumped over the dead leaves, which 
crackled and rustled beneath his feet. As soon as 
he was gone, the young lady in green opened her 
eyes in good earnest and looked about her. " Madam 
Sleepyhead, indeed ! " she reechoed indignantly. " I 

* Copyright, Dana, Estes & Co. Used by permission. 
117 



STORY TELLING 

am sure that is not my name, anyhow. The question 
is, What is it?" 

She looked about her again, but nothing was to be 
seen save the bare branches of the trees, and the dead, 
brown leaves and dry moss underfoot. 

" Trees, do you happen to know what my name 
is ? " she asked. The trees shook their heads. " No, 
ma'am," they said, " we do not know ; but perhaps 
when the Wind comes, he will be able to give you 
some information." The girl shivered a little, and 
drew her green mantle about her and waited. 

By-and-by the Wind came blustering along. He 
caught the trees by their branches, and shook them 
in rough friendly greeting. 

" Well, boys ! " he shouted, " Old Winter is gone, 
is he? I wish you joy of his departure! But where 
is the lady who was coming to take his place? " 

" She is here," answered the trees, " sitting on the 
ground; but she does not know her own name, which 
seems to trouble her." 

" Ho ! ho ! " roared the Wind. " Not know her 
own name? That is news, indeed! And here she 
has been sleeping, while all the world has been look- 
ing for her, and calling her, and wondering where 
upon earth she was. Come, young lady," he added, 
addressing the girl with rough courtesy, " I will show 
you the way to your dressing-room, which has been 
ready and waiting for you for a fortnight and more." 

So he led the way through the forest, and the girl 
followed, rubbing her pretty, sleepy eyes, and drag- 
ging her mantle behind her. 

Now it was a very singular thing that whatever the 
green mantle touched instantly turned green itself. 
The brown moss put out little tufts of emerald velvet ; 

118 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

fresh shoots came pushing up from the dead, dry- 
grass; and even the shrubs and twigs against which 
the edges of the garment brushed broke out with tiny 
swelling buds, all ready to open into leaves. 

By-and-by the Wind paused and pushed aside the 
branches, which made a close screen before him. 

" Here is your dressing-room, young madam," he 
said, with a low bow ; " be pleased to enter it, and 
you will find all things in readiness. But let me 
entreat you to make your toilet speedily, for all the 
world is waiting for you." 

Greatly wondering, the young girl passed through 
the screen of branches, and found herself in a most 
marvellous place. 

The ground was carpeted with pine-needles, soft 
and thick and brown. The pine-trees made a dense 
green wall around, and as the wind passed softly 
through the boughs, the air was sweet with their 
spicy fragrance. On the ground were piled great 
heaps of buds, all ready to blossom, — violets, anem- 
ones, hepaticas, blood-root, — while from under a huge 
pile of brown leaves peeped the pale pink buds of the 
Mayflower. 

The young girl in the green mantle looked wonder- 
ingly at all these things. "How strange! " she said. 
*' They are all asleep, and waiting for someone to 
waken them. Perhaps if I do it, they will tell me in 
return what my name is." 

She shook the buds lightly, and lo! every blossom 
opened its eyes and raised its head, and said, " Wel- 
come, gracious lady! Welcome! We have looked for 
you long, long! " 

The young girl, in delight, took the lovely blos- 
soms, rosy and purple, golden and white, and twined 

119 



STORY TELLING 

them in her fair locks, and hung them in garlands 
round her white neck; and still they were opening 
by thousands, till the pine-tree hollow was filled with 
them. 

Presently the girl spied a beautiful carved casket, 
which had been hidden under a pile of spicy leaves, 
and from inside of it came a rustling sound, the 
softest sound that was ever heard. 

She lifted the lid, and out flew a cloud of butter- 
flies. Rainbow-tinted, softly, glitteringly, gayly flut- 
tering, out they flew by thousands and thousands, 
and hovered about the maiden's head; and the soft 
sound of their wings, which mortal ears are too dull 
to hear, seemed to say, " Welcome ! Welcome ! " 

At the same moment a great flock of beautiful birds 
came flying, and lighted on the branches all around, 
and they, too, sang, "Welcome! Welcome! " 

The maiden clasped her hands and cried, " Why are 
you all so glad to sec me ? I feel — I know — that 
you are all mine, and I am yours; but how is it? 
Who am I ? What is my name ? " 

And buds and flowers and rainbow-hued butter- 
flies and sombre pine-trees all answered in joyous 
chorus, " Spring ! the beautiful, the long expected ! 
Hail to the maiden Spring! " 



THE WOODPECKER 
From an Old Legend 

Once upon a time, longer than long ago, . when the 
good St. Peter walked about the earth looking to see 
how men lived, he came one day to the door of a 
cottage where an old woman was baking cakes. 

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MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

She was neat and tidy, with a red cap on her head, 
a black silk dress, and a white apron which she tied 
behind in a great white bow. 

She was baking spice cakes, with raisins and cur- 
rants in them, and they smelled wonderfully good as 
St. Peter stopped at the door and asked for something 
to eat. 

" Madam," he said, " I have travelled far and am 
tired and hungry. Will you give me one of the cakes 
you are baking? " 

The old woman looked at the stranger and then 
at her cakes, but she had lived so long by herself 
she had grown selfish, and she thought to herself, 
" They are all too large to give away ; I '11 bake a 
small one for him." 

So she took a little dough in the spoon and dropped 
it into the pan, and put the pan in the oven; but 
when she opened the door and took out the pan, the 
cake was as large as any she had baked. She took 
it out and put it on the table with the others, and 
this time she took just a teaspoonful of dough and 
put it in the pan to bake. 

When she opened >the oven door and looked in, the 
strangest thing had happened^ The cake had grown 
till it was larger than any of the cakes she had. 
She could n't part with such a cake, so she put it 
on the table with her others. Then she took just a 
teeny-weeny bit of dough about as big as a pin-head 
and put it in the pan to bake. When she pulled out 
the pan and looked at the cake, it was strange be- 
yond anything that ever happened! That teeny- 
weeny bit of dough had grown to be a cake three 
times as large as any she had. 

When she saw what had happened she could n't 

121 



STORY TELLING 

make up her mind to part with it, and she put it 
jiway and took out an old dry piece of bread and gave 
that to St. Peter. 

The good St. Peter took the bread and ate it, and 
turning to the old woman he said, " I have no money 
to pay for what you have given me, but the first 
thing you wish, when I 'm gone, that shall you have," 
and with that he turned and walked away from the 
cottage door. 

He looked so old and feeble as he walked away, 
that the old woman began to be sorry she had given 
him nothing but the dry bread. 

" I wish I were a bird," she said, " then I 'd fly 
after him and take him a cake, for they do smell 
good." 

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than 
a change took place. When the old lady looked down 
at her hands they had changed to wings, her feet 
had become claws, and as she glanced at herself in 
the glass she saw herself a bird. She still had her 
red cap on her head, her white apron with the bow 
behind, and the black dress, but bird she was. Then 
along came the wind, and lifted her up as she stood 
in the open door, and carried her away over the tops 
of the houses and out to the woods, and there dropped 
her to the branch of a tree. 

Any one can see her climbing up and down the trees 
looking for something to eat; and when they see her, 
people say, "Oh, there's a red-headed woodpecker! " 
But we know it 's only the little old woman always 
looking for something to eat. 



122 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

HOW THE ROBIN'S BREAST BECAI^IE RED i 

From Cooke's " Nature Myths and Stories " 

Long ago in the far North, where it is very cold, 
there was only one fire. 

A hunter and his little son took care of this fire 
and kept it burning day and night. They knew that 
if the fire went out the people would freeze and the 
white bear would have the Northland all to himself. 
One day the hunter became ill and his son had the 
work to do. 

For many days and nights he bravely took care of 
his father and kept the fire burning. 

The white bear was always hiding near, watching 
the fire. He longed to put it out, but he did not 
dare for he feared the hunter's arrows. 

When he saw how tired and sleepy the little boy 
was, he came closer to the fire and laughed to him- 
self. 

One night the poor boy could endure the fatigue 
no longer, and fell fast asleep. 

The white bear ran as fast as he could and jumped 
upon the fire with his wet feet, and rolled upon it. 
At last, he thought it was all out and went happily 
away to his cave. 

A gray robin was flying near and saw what the 
white bear was doing. 

She waited until the bear went away. Then she 
flew down and searched with her sharp little eyes 
until she found a tiny live coal. This she fanned 
patiently with her wings for a long time. 

Her little breast was scorched red, but she did 
^ Copyright, A. Flanagan Co. Used by permission. 
123 



STORY TELLING 

not stop until a fine red flame blazed up from the 
ashes. 

Tlien she flew away to every hut in the North- 
land. 

Wherever she touched the ground a fire began to 
burn. 

Soon instead of one little fire the whole north 
country was lighted up. 

The white bear went further back into his cave in 
the iceberg and growled terribly. 

He knew that there was now no hope that he 
would ever have the Northland all to himself. 

This is the reason that the people in the north 
country love the robin, and are never tired of tell- 
ing their children how its breast became red. 



LITTLE IDA'S FLOWERS i 
From Andersen's " Fairy Tales " 

" My poor flowers are quite dead ! " said little Ida. 
"They were so beautiful last night, and now all the 
leaves are hanging down quite faded! Why are they 
doing that ? " she asked the student, who sat on the 
sofa. She was very fond of him; he could tell the 
most beautiful stories and out out the funniest 
pictures, such as hearts with little damsels who 
danced, and flowers, and large castles with doors 
that could be opened; he was indeed a merry 
student ! 

"Why do the flowers look so poorly to-day?" she 
asked again, and showed him a whole bouquet which 
was entirely faded. 

* Copyright, The Century Co. Used by permission. 
124 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

" Don't you know what 's the matter with them ? " 
said the student. " The flowers were at a ball last 
night, and that 's why they hang their heads ! " 

" But flowers cannot dance ! " said little Ida. 

" Oh, yes," said the student, " when it is dark and 
we are asleep, they run about quite merrily; al- 
most every night they hold a ball! " 

"Can't children go to these balls?" 

" Yes," said the student, " as tiny daisies and lilies 
of the valley." 

" Where do the prettiest flowers dance ? " asked 
little Ida. 

" Have n't you often been outside the gate of the 
great palace, where the king lives in summer, and 
where there is a beautiful garden with many flowers? 
You have seen the swans, which swim toward you 
when you want to give them bread crumbs. They 
hold real balls out there, I can tell you! " 

" I was there in the garden, yesterday, with my 
mother," said Ida ; " but all the leaves had fallen 
off the trees, and there were no flowers at all! 
Where are they? Last summer I saw so many! " 

" They are in the palace," said the student. " You 
must know that as soon as ever the king and all the 
court move into the town, the flowers at once run 
away from the garden up to the palace and make 
merry. You ought to see that! Two most beautiful 
roses take a seat on the throne, and then they are 
king and queen. All the red cockscombs range 
themselves by their side and stand bowing; they are 
the chamberlains. Then all sorts o'f lovely flowers 
arrive, and then they have a great ball; the blue 
violets represent little midshipmen, and dance with 
hyacinths and crocuses, whom they call young ladies. 

125 



STORY TELLING 

The tulips and the large tiger-lilies are the old 
ladies; they see that the dancing is done well and 
that everything is properly conducted! " 

" But," asked little Ida, " does n't any one do any- 
thing to the flowers for dancing in the king's 
palace? " 

" There is no one who really knows anything about 
that," said the student. " Sometimes the old keeper 
who looks after the palace out there, comes round at 
night; but he has a large bunch of keys, and as soon 
as the flowers hear the keys rattle, they are quite 
quiet and hide themselves behind the long curtains 
and peep out. 

" ' I can smell that there are some flowers in 
here! ' says the keeper, but he cannot see them." 

" That 's great fun," said little Ida, clapping her 
hands. " But should n't I be able to see the flowers 
either?" 

" Yes," said the student, " just remember when you 
go there again to peep in through the window, and 
you are sure to see them. I did so to-day, and there 
lay a long yellow daffodil on the sofa, stretching 
herself and imagining herself to be one of the ladies 
of the court! " 

" Can the flowers in the Botanical Gardens also 
go there ? Can they go such a long way ? " 

" Yes, of course ! " said the student, " for they 
can fly if they like. Have n't you seen the beautiful 
butterflies, red, yellow, and white? They almost look 
like flowers, and that is what they once were. They 
have flown from the stalks right up into the air, 
flapping with their leaves as if they were little wings. 
And as they behaved well, they were allowed to fly 
about in the daytime also, and were not obliged to 

126 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

remain at home and sit still on the stalk, and so 
the leaves became real wings at last. You have seen 
that yourself! It may be, however, that the flowers 
in the Botanical Gardens have never been to the 
king's palace, and do not know that they have such 
a merry time at night out there. I will therefore 
tell you something which will greatly surprise the 
botanical professor who lives next door — you know 
him, don't you? When you go into his garden, you 
must tell one of the flowers that there is going to be 
a great ball at the palace, and he again will tell it 
to all the others, and then they will all fly off. 
When the professor comes into the garden there will 
not be a single flower left, and he will not be able 
to make out what has become of them." 

" But how can the flowers tell it to the others? 
Tlie flowers cannot talk! " 

" That 's true ! " answered the student, " but they 
make signs to one another. Haven't you seen when 
the wind blows a little that the flowers nod to one 
another and move all their green leaves? They un- 
derstand it as plainly as if they spoke! '* 

"Can the professor understand their language?" 
asked Ida. 

" Yes, of course! He came down into his garden 
one morning and saw a big nettle making signs with 
its leaves to a beautiful red carnation; it said, 
* You are so lovely, and I am so fond of you ! ' The 
professor does not like such things going on, so he 
gave the nettle a slap across its leaves, for they are 
its fingers, you know; but he stung himself, and 
since then he never dares to touch a nettle." 

" How funny ! " said little Ida with a laugh. 

" What ideas to put into the child's head ! " re- 

127 



STORY TELLING 

marked the tiresome counsellor, who had come on 
a visit and was sitting on the sofa. He did not like 
the student, and was always grumbling when he saw 
him cutting out the funny, comic pictures; some- 
times a man hanging on a gallows and holding a 
heart in his hand, — for he had been a destroyer of 
hearts, — sometimes an old witch riding on a broom 
and carrying her husband on her nose. The coun- 
sellor did not like that, and so he would say as he 
had done just now : " What ideas to put into the 
child's head! It is pure imagination! " 

But it seemed to little Ida that what the student 
had told her about her flowers was very amusing, and 
she thought a great deal about it. Tlie flowers hung 
their heads, because they were tired of dancing all 
the night; they must be poorly. So she carried 
them with her to a nice little table where she kept 
all her toys, and the whole drawer was full of pretty 
things. In the doll's bed lay her doll Sophia, asleep, 
but little Ida said to her : " You must really get up, 
Sophia, and be content with lying in the drawer to- 
night; the poor flowers are poorly and they must 
lie in your bed; perhaps they will then get well 
again! " And so she took the doll, who looked very 
cross but did not say a single word, because she was 
angry at not being allowed to keep her bed. 

Ida put the flowers in the doll's bed, pulled the 
little quilt over them, and said they must lie quiet 
and she would make tea for them, so that they might 
get well again and be able to get up in the morning. 
She then drew the curtains closely round the little 
bed, so that the sun should not shine in their eyes. 

The whole evening she could not help thinking 
about what the student had told her, and when she 

128 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

had to go to bed herself, she felt she must first go 
behind the curtains which hung before the windows 
where her mother's lovely flowers were standing, both 
hyacinths and tulips, and then she whispered quite 
softly, " I know you are going to a ball to-night ! " 
but the flowers appeared as if they understood 
nothing and did not move a leaf, but little Ida 
knew — what she knew. 

When she had got into bed she lay for a long time 
thinking how nice it would be to see the beautiful 
flowers dance at the king's palace. 

" I wonder if my flowers really have been there! " 
And so she fell asleep. In the course of the night 
she awoke; she had been dreaming about the flowers 
and the student, whom the counsellor used to scold for 
putting silly ideas into her head. It was quite 
quiet in the bedroom where Ida was lying; the 
night-lamp was burning on the table and her father 
and mother were asleep. 

" I wonder if my flowers are now lying in Sophia's 
bed," she said to herself ; " how I should like to 
know! " She raised herself a little and looked to- 
ward the door, which was half open; in there lay 
the flowers and her' toys. She listened, and it ap- 
peared to her as if she heard someone playing the 
piano in the next room, very softly, and more beau- 
tifully than she had ever heard it before. 

" I expect all my flowers are now dancing in 
there ! " she said, " how I should like to see them ! " 
But she dared not get up for fear of waking her 
father and mother. " If they would only come in 
here," she said; but the flowers did not come, and 
the music continued to play so beautifully that she 
could not resist it any longer, — it was too en- 

U9 



STORY TELLING 

trancing, — so she crept out of her little bed and 
went quite softly to the door and looked into the 
room. Oh, what an amusing scene met her sight! 

There was no night-lamp in there, but still it was 
quite light J the moon was shining through the win- 
dow right into the middle of the room! It was al- 
most as light as day. All the hyacinths and tulips 
were standing in two long rows along the floor; 
there were none at all in the window, where only 
empty pots were to be seen. Down on the floor the 
flowers were dancing most gracefully round and 
round, doing the chain quite correctly and holding each 
other by their long green leaves as they swung round. 
And over at the piano sat a large yellow lily whom 
little Ida was sure she had seen last summer, for 
she remembered so well that the student had said: 
"How she is like Miss Lina!" but they all laughed 
at him then. But now Ida really thought that the 
long yellow flower was like Miss Lina, and had just 
the same manners when playing, putting her large 
yellow head first on one side and then on the other, 
and nodding it to keep time with the music. No 
one noticed little Ida. She then saw a large blue 
crocus jump right into the middle of the table, 
where the toys were standing, and walk straight up 
to the doll's bed and pull aside the curtains; there 
lay the sick flowers, but they got up directly and 
nodded their heads to the others to show that they 
also wanted to join in the dance. The old incense- 
burner with the broken under-lip stood up and bowed 
to the pretty flowers; they did not appear at all ill, 
they jumped down among the others and looked so 
pleased ! 

Just then it seemed as if something fell down from 
130 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

the table. Ida looked that way; it was the Shrove- 
tide rod, which had jumped down; it thought it also 
belonged to the flowers. It was really very pretty; 
at the top sat a little wax doll, which had just the 
same kind of broad hat on her head as the counsellor 
wore; the Shrovetide rod and its three red wooden 
legs jumped right into the midst of the flowers and 
stamped quite loudly; it was dancing the mazurka, 
and this the other flowers could not dance because 
they were too light and could not stamp. 

All at once the wax doll on the rod began to grow 
bigger and bigger, whirled round above the paper 
flowers, and called out quite loudly: "What ideas 
to put into the child's head! It is pure imagina- 
tion! " And then the wax doll looked exactly like 
the counsellor with the broad hat, and was just as 
yellow and cross as he, but the paper flowers struck 
him across his thin legs; and he shrank and shrank 
till he became a little wee bit of a wax doll again. He 
looked so very funny, little Ida could not help laugh- 
ing. The Shrovetide rod went on dancing and the 
counsellor had to dance as well ; there was no help for 
it, he had to dance whether he made himself big and 
long, or became the' little yellow wax doll with the 
big black hat. Then the other flowers interceded for 
him, especially those that had been in the doll's 
bed, and at last the Shrovetide rod stopped dancing. 

At that moment there was a loud knocking in 
the drawer where Ida's doll, Sophia, lay among the 
other toys; the incense-burner ran to the edge of the 
table, laid himself flat do\\Ti upon his stomach and 
managed to get the drawer pulled out a little; 
whereupon Sophia sat up and looked quite sur- 
prised. 

131 



STORY TELLING 

"There's a ball here!" she said; "why hasn't 
anyone told me? " 

"Will you dance with me?" asked the incense- 
burner. 

" You are a nice one to dance with, I'm sure ! " 
she said, and turned her back upon him. So she 
sat down on the drawer and thought that one of the 
flowers would be sure to come and engage her, but 
no one came; then she coughed, hem! hem! hem! 
but no one came for all that. The incense-burner 
danced all by himself, and he did n't do it at all 
badly! 

As none of the flowers seemed to notice Sophia, 
she let herself fall with a thump from the drawer 
right down on the floor, and caused quite a com- 
motion; all the flowers came running round her 
asking if she had hurt herself, and they were all so 
nice to her, especially the flowers that had been lying 
in her bed. But she had not hurt herself at all, and 
all Ida's flowers thanked her for her beautiful bed, 
and said they loved her very much; they led her 
into the middle of the floor, where the moon was 
shining, and danced with her, while the other flowers 
formed a circle round them. Sophia was now very 
pleased and said they might keep her bed; she did 
not at all mind lying in the drawer. 

But the flowers said : " We are very much obliged 
to you, but we cannot live very long! To-morrow 
we shall be quite dead, but tell little Ida she must 
bury us in the garden where the canary bird is 
lying; then we shall grow up again in the summer 
and be prettier than ever! " 

" No, you must not die ! " said Sophia, and then 
she kissed the flowers. 

132 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

Just then the door of the next room flew open, 
and a lot of beautiful flowers came dancing in. Ida 
could not make out where they came from; they 
must be all the flowers from the king's palace. 
First of all came two lovely roses, with their little 
golden crowns; they were the king and the queen. 
Then came the most beautiful stocks and carnations, 
bowing on all sides; they had brought music with 
them. Large poppies and peonies were blowing pea- 
shells till they were quite red in the face. The 
bluebells and the little white snowdrops tinkled as 
if they had bells on. The music was very funny! 
Tlien there came many other flowers, and they all 
danced; the blue violets and the red heartseases, 
the daisies and the lilies of the valley. And all the 
fl^owers kissed one another; it was such a pretty 
sight ! 

At last the flowers said good-night to each other, 
and little Ida stole back to her bed, where she 
dreamed of all that she had seen. 

When she got up next morning, she went at once 
to the little table to see if the flowers were still 
there. She pulled aside the curtains of the little 
bed, and there they all lay, but they were quite 
faded, more so than they were the day before. Sophia 
lay in the drawer, where she had put her; she looked 
very sleepy. 

" Can you remember what you were to tell me ? " 
said little Ida, but Sophia looked very stupid, and 
did not say a single word. 

"You are not at all kind," said Ida; "and yet 
they all danced with you." So she took a little card- 
board box, on which were painted beautiful birds; 
she opened it and put the dead flowers into it. 

133 



STORY TELLING 

" That will make a pretty coffin for you ! " she 
said, " and when my Norwegian cousins come here, 
they shall help me to bury you in the garden, so 
that you can grow up next summer and be prettier 
than ever! " 

Her Norwegian cousins were two fine boys, whose 
names were Jonas and Adolph; their father had 
given them each a new cross-bow, and they had 
brought these with them to show Ida. She told 
them about the poor flowers that were dead, and 
they were allowed to bury them. Both the boys 
went first with their cross-bows on their shoulders, 
and little Ida followed behind with the dead flowers 
in the beautiful box. A little grave was dug in 
the garden. Ida first kissed the flowers and then 
laid them in the box in the grave, while Adolph and 
Jonas shot with their cross-bows over it, for they 
had neither guns nor cannons. 

OLD PIPES AND THE DRYAD* 
From Stockton's " The Bee-Man of Obn '* 

[A MOUNTAIN brook ran through a little village. 
Over the brook there was a narrow bridge, and from 
the bridge a footpath led out from the village and 
up the hill-side, to the cottage of Old Pipes and his 
mother.] 

For many, many years Old Pipes had been em- 
ployed by the villagers to pipe the cattle down from 
the hills. [Every afternoon, an hour before sunset, 
he would sit on a rock in front of his cottage and 
play on his pipes. Then all the flocks and herds 

1 FroM " The Bee-Man of Orn." Copyright, 1887, by Chakles 
ScRiBNEE's Sons. Used by permission. 

134 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

that were grazing on the mountains would hear 
him, wherever they might happen to be, and would 
come down to the village — the cows by the easiest 
paths, the sheep by those not quite so easy, and the 
goats by the steep and rocky ways that were hardest 
of all.] 

But now, for a year or more, Old Pipes had not 
piped the cattle home. It is true that every after- 
noon he sat upon the rock and played upon his 
pipes; but the cattle did not hear him. He had 
grown old, and his breath was feeble. The echoes 
of his cheerful notes, which used to come from the 
rocky hill on the other side of the valley, were heard 
no more; and twenty yards from Old Pipes one 
could scarcely tell what tune he was playing. He 
had become somewhat deaf, and did not know that 
the sound of his pipes was so thin and weak, and 
that the cattle did not hear him. The cows, the 
sheep, and the goats came down every afternoon as 
before; but this was because two boys and a girl 
were sent up after them. The villagers did not wish 
the good old man to know that his piping was no 
longer of any use; so they paid him his little salary 
every month, and said nothing about the two boys 
and the girl. 

[Old Pipes's mother was, of course, a great deal 
older than he was, and was as deaf as a gate — posts, 
latch, hinges, and all — and she never knew that the 
sound of her son's pipe did not spread over all the 
mountain-side and echo back strong and clear from 
the opposite hills. She was very fond of Old Pipes, 
and proud of hia piping; and as he was so much 
younger than she was, she never thought of him as 
being very old. She cooked for him, and made his 
135 



STORY TELLING 

bed, and mended his clothes; and they lived very 
comfortably on his little salary.] 

One afternoon, at the end of the month, when 
Old Pipes had finished his piping, he took his stout 
staff and went down the hill to the village to re- 
ceive the money for his month's work. The path 
seemed a great deal steeper and more difficult than 
it used to be; [and Old Pipes thought that it must 
have been washed by the rains and greatly damaged. 
He remembered it as a path that was quite easy to 
traverse eitlier up or down.] But Old Pipes had 
been a very active man, and as his mother was so 
much older than he was, he never thought of him- 
self as aged and infirm. 

When the Chief Villager had paid him, [and he 
liad talked a little with some of his friends,] Old 
Pipes started to go home. But when he had [crossed 
the bridge over the brook, and] gone a short distance 
up the hil-side, he became very tired, and sat down 
upon a stone. He had not been sitting there half 
a minute, when along came two boys and a girl. 

" Children," said Old Pipes, " I 'm very tired to-night, 
and I don't believe I can climb up this steep path to my 
home. I think I shall have to ask you to help me." 

" We will do that," said the boys and the girl, 
quite cheerfully; [and one boy took him by the 
right hand and the other by the left, while the girl 
pushed him in the back.] In this way he went up 
the hill quite easily, and soon reached his cottage 
door. Old Pipes gave each of the three children a 
copper coin, and then they sat down for a few 
minutes' rest before starting back to the village. 

" I'm sorry that I tired you so much," said Old 
Pipes. 

136 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

" Oh, 'that would not have tired us," said one of 
the boys, " if we had not been so far to-day after 
the cows, and the sheep, and the goats. They ram- 
bled high up on the mountain, and we never before 
had such a time in finding them." 

" Had to go after the cows, the sheep, and the 
goats ! " exclaimed Old Pipes. " What do you mean 
by that?" 

The girl, who stood behind the old man, shook 
her head, put her hand on her mouth, and made all 
sorts of signs to the boy to stop talking on this 
subject; but he did not notice her, and promptly 
answered Old Pipes. 

" Why, you see, good sir," said he, " that as the 
cattle can't hear your pipes now, somebody has to 
go after them every evening to drive them down from 
the mountain, and the Chief Villager has hired us 
three to do it. [Generally it is not very hard work, 
but to-night the cattle had wandered far."] 

" How long have you been doing this ? " asked the 
old man. 

[The girl shook her head and clapped her hand 
on her mouth as before, but the boy went on.] 

" I think it is about a year now," he said, " since 
the people first felt sure that the cattle could not 
hear your pipes; [and from that time we've been 
driving them down. But we are rested now, and 
will go home.] Good-night, sir." 

The three children then went down the hill, [the 
girl scolding the boy all the way home.] Old Pipes 
[stood silent a few moments, and then he] went into 
his cottage. 

" Mother," he shouted, " did you hear what those 
children said?" 

137 



STORY TELLING 

" Children ! " exclaimed the old woman ; " I did 
not hear them. 1 did not know there were any 
children here." 

Tlien Old Pipes told his mother — shouting very 
loudly to make her hear [how the two boys and 
the girl had helped him up the hill, and what he 
had heard about his piping and the cattle. 

" They can't hear you ? " cried his mother. " Why, 
what's the matter with the cattle ? " 

" Ah, me ! " said Old Pipes ; " I don't believe 
there 's anything the matter with the cattle. It 
must be with me and my pipes that there is some- 
thing the matter. But one thing is certain; if I 
do not earn the wages the Chief Villager pays me, 
I shall not take them. I shall go straight down to the 
village and give back the money I received to-day."] 

" Nonsense! " cried his mother. " I'm sure you've 
piped as well as you could, and no more can be 
expected. And what are we to do without the 
money ? " 

" I don't know," said Old Pipes ; " but I'm going 
down to the village to pay it back." 

[The sun had now set; but the moon was shining 
very brightly on the hill-side, and Old Pipes could 
see his way very well. He did not take the same 
path by which he had gone before, but followed an- 
other, which led among the trees upon the hill-side, 
and, though longer, was not so steep. J 

When he had gone about half-way, the old man 
sat down to rest, leaning his back against a great 
oak-tree. As he did so, he heard a sound like 
knocking inside the tree, and then a voice said: 

" Let me out ! let me out ! " 

Old Pipes instantly forgot that he was tired, and 

138 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

sprang to his feet. " This must be a Dryad tree ! " 
he exclaimed. " If it is, I '11 let her out." 

Old Pipes had never, to his knowledge, seen a 
Dryad tree, but he knew there were such trees on 
the hill-sides and the mountains, and that Dryads 
lived in them. He knew, too, that in the summer- 
time, on those days when the moon rose before the 
sun went down, a Dryad could come out of her tree 
if any one could find the key which locked her in, 
and turn it. Old Pipes closely examined the trunk 
of the tree, which stood in the full moonlight. " If 
I see that key," he said, " I shall surely turn it." 
Before long he found a piece of bark standing out 
from the tree, which looked to him very much like 
the handle of a key. He took hold of it, and found 
he could turn it quite around. As he did so, a large 
part of the side of the tree was pushed open, and a 
beautiful Dryad stepped quickly out. 

For a moment she stood motionless, gazing on the 
scene before her [the tranquil valley, the hills, 
the forest, and the mountain- side, all lying in the 
soft clear light of the moon.] "Oh, lovely! lovely! " 
she exclaimed. " How long it is since I have seen 
anything like this! " And then, turning to Old 
Pipes, she said : " How good of you to let me out ! 
I am so happy, and so thankful, that I must kiss 
you, you dear old man! " And she [threw her arms 
around the neck of Old Pipes, and] kissed him on 
both cheeks. 

" You don't know," she then went on to say, " how 
doleful it is to be shut up so long in a tree. I 
don't mind it in the winter, for then I am glad to 
be sheltered, but in summer it is a rueful thing not 
to be able to see all the beauties of the world. And 

139 



STORY TELLING 

it's ever so long since I've been let out. People so 
seldom come this way; and when they do come at 
the right time, they either don't hear me, or they 
are frightened and run away. But you, you dear 
old man, you were not frightened, and you looked 
and looked for the key, and you let me out; [and 
now I shall' not have to go back till winter has come, 
and the air grows cold. Oh, it is glorious!] What 
can I do for you, to show you how grateful I am ? " 

" I am very glad," said Old Pipes, " that I let 
you out, since I see that it makes you so happy; 
[but I must admit that I tried to find the key be- 
cause I had a great desire to see a Dryad.] But, 
if you wish to do something for me, you can, if you 
happen to be going down toward the village," 

["To the village!" exclaimed the Dryad. "I 
will go anywhere for you, my kind old benefactor." 

" Well, then," said Old Pipes,] " I wish you would 
take this little bag of money to the Chief Villager 
and tell him that Old Pipes cannot receive pay for 
the services which he does not perform. It is now 
more than a year that I have not been able to make 
the cattle hear me when I piped to call them home. 
I did not know this until to-night; but now that I 
know it, I cannot keep the money, and so I send it 
back." [And, handing the little bag to the Dryad, 
he bade her good-night, and turned toward his 
cottage.] 

" Good-night," said the Dryad. " And I thank you 
over, and over, and over again, you good old man! " 

Old Pipes walked toward his home, very glad to 
be saved the fatigue of going all the way down to 
the village and back again. [" To be sure," he said 
to himself, " this path does not seem at all steep, 

140 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

and I can walk along it very easily; but it would 
have tired me dreadfully to come up all the way 
from the village, especially as I could not have ex- 
pected those children to help me again." When he 
reached home his mother was surprised to see him 
returning so soon. 

" What ! " she exclaimed ; " have you already come 
back? What did the Chief Villager say? Did he 
take the money ? " 

Old Pipes was just about to tell her that he had 
sent the money to the village by a Dryad, when he 
suddenly reflected that his mother would be sure to 
disapprove such a proceeding, and so he merely said 
he had sent it by a person whom he had met. 

" And how do you know that the person will ever 
take it to the Chief Villager?" cried his mother. 
" You will lose it, and the villagers will never get it. 
Oh, Pipes! Pipes! when will you be old enough to 
have ordinary common sense ? " 

Old Pipes considered that, as he was already seventy 
years of age, he could scarcely expect to grow any 
wiser; but he made no remark on this subject, and, 
saying that he doubt;ed not that the money would go 
safely to its destination, he sat down to his supper. 
His mother scolded him roundly, but he did not mind 
it; and after supper he went out and sat on a rustic 
chair in front of the cottage to look at the moonlit 
village, and to wonder whether or not the Chief Vil- 
lager really received the money. While he was doing 
these two things, he went fast asleep.] 

When Old Pipes left Dryad, she did not go 
down to the village with the little bag of money. 
She held it in her hand, and thought about what she 
had heard. " This is a good and honest old man," 

141 



STORY TELLING 

she said ; " and it is a shame that he should lose this 
money. He looked as if he needed it, and I don't 
believe the people in the village will take it from one 
who has served them so long. Often, when in my tree, 
have I heard the sweet notes of his pipes. I am going 
to take the money back to him." She did not start 
immediately, because there were so many beautiful 
things to look at ; but after awhile she went up to the 
cottage, and, finding Old Pipes asleep in his chair, 
she slipped the little bag into his coat pocket, and 
silently sped away. 

The next day Old Pipes told his mother that he 
would go up the mountain and cut some wood. [He 
had a right to get wood from the mountain, but for 
a long time he had been content to pick up the dead 
branches which lay about his cottage. To-day, how- 
ever, he felt so strong and vigorous that he thought 
he would go and cut some fuel that would be better 
than this.] He worked all the morning, and when he 
came back he did not feel at all tired, and he had a 
very good appetite for his dinner. 

Now, Old Pipes knew a good deal about Dryads; 
but there was one thing which, although he had heard, 
he had forgotten. This was, that a kiss from a Dryad 
made a person ten years younger. 

[The people of the village knew this, and they 
were very careful not to let any child of ten years or 
younger go into the woods where the Dryads were 
supposed to be ; for, if they should chance to be kissed 
by one of these tree-nymphs, they would be set back 
so far that they would cease to exist. 

A story was told in the village that a very bad 
boy of eleven once ran away into the woods, and had 
an adventure of this kind; and when his mother 

142 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

found him he was a little baby of one year old. Tak- 
ing advantage of her opportunity, she brought him up 
more carefully than she had done before, and he grew 
to be a very good boy indeed. 1 

Now Old Pipes had been kissed twice by the Dryad, 
once on each cheek, and he therefore felt as vigorous 
and active as when he was a hale man of fifty. [His 
mother noticed how much work he was doing, and 
told him that he need not try in that way to make 
up for the loss of his piping wages; for he would 
only tire himself out, and get sick. But her son an- 
swered that he had not felt so well for years, and 
that he was quite able to work.] 

In the course of the afternoon. Old Pipes, for the 
first time that day, put his hand in his coat pocket, 
and there, to his amazement, he found the little bag 
of money. " Well, well ! " he exclaimed, " I am stupid, 
indeed! I really thought that I had seen a Dryad; 
but when I sat down by that big oak tree I must have 
gone to sleep and dreamed it all; and then I came 
home, thinking I had given the money to a Dryad, 
when it was in my pocket all the time. But the 
Chief Villager shall have the money. [I shall not 
take it to him to-day, but to-morrow I wish to go to 
the village to see some of my old friends; and then 
I shall give up the money."] 

Toward the close of the afternoon. Old Pipes, [as 
had been his custom for so many years,] took his pipes 
[from the shelf on which they lay,] and went out to 
the rock in front of the cottage. 

" What are you going to do ? " cried his mother. 
["If you will not consent to be paid, why do you 
pipe?"] 

" I am going to pipe for my own pleasure," said her 

143 



STORY TELLING 

son. " I am used to it, and I do not wish to give it 
up. [It does not matter now whether the cattle hear 
me or not, and I am sure that my piping will injure 
no one."] 

When the good man began to play upon his favorite 
instrument he was astonished at the sound that came 
from it. The beautiful notes of the pipes sounded 
clear and strong down into the valley, and spread 
over the hills, and up the sides of the mountain be- 
yond, while, after a little interval, an echo came back 
from the rocky hill on the other side of the valley. 

" Ha ! ha ! " he cried, " what has happened to my 
pipes? They must have been stopped up of late, but 
now they are as clear and good as ever." 

[Again the merry notes went sounding far and wide. 
Tlie cattle on the mountain heard them, and those that 
were old enough remembered how these notes had 
called them from their pastures every evening, and 
so they started down the mountain-side, the others 
following.] 

The merry notes were heard in the village below, 
and the people were much astonished thereby. " Why, 
who can be blowing the pipes of Old Pipes ? " they 
said. But, as they were all very busy, no one went 
up to see. [One thing, however, was plain enough: 
the cattle were coming down the moimtain. And so 
the two boys and the girl did not have to go after 
them, and had an hour for play, for which they were 
very glad.] 

The next morning Old Pipes started down to the 
village with his money, and on the way he met the 
Dryad. " Oh, ho ! " he cried, " is that you ? Why, I 
thought my letting you out of the tree was nothing 
but a dream." 

144 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

"A dream! " cried the Dryad; "if you only knew 
how happy you have made me, you would not think 
it merely a dream. And has it not benefited you? 
[Do you not feel happier?] Yesterday I heard you 
playing beautifully on your pipes," 

"Yes, yes," cried he. "I did not understand it 
before, but I see it all now. I have really grown 
younger. [I thank you, I thank you, good Dryad, 
from the bottom of my heart.] It was the finding of 
the money in my pocket that made me think it was 
a dream." 

" Oh, I put it in when you were asleep," she said, 
laughing, "because I thought you ought to keep it. 
Good-bye, kind, honest man. May you live long, and 
be as happy as I am now." 

Old Pipes was greatly delighted when he under- 
stood that he was really a younger man; but that 
made no difference about the money, and he kept on 
his way to the village. As soon as he reached it, [he 
was eagerly questioned as to who had been playing 
his pipes the evening before, and when the people 
heard that it was himself they were very much sur- 
prised. Thereupon]^ Old Pipes told what had hap- 
pened to him, and then there was greater wonder, 
[with hearty congratulations and hand-shakes; for 
Old Pipes was liked by everyone. The Chief Villager 
refused to take his money; and although Old Pipes 
said that he had not earned it, everyone present in- 
sisted that, as he would now play on his pipes as be- 
fore, he should lose nothing because, for a time, he 
was unable to perform his duty.] 

So Old Pipes was obliged to keep his money, and 
after an hour or two spent in conversation with his 
friends he returned to his cottage. 

145 



STORY TELLING 

There was one person, however, who was not pleased 
with what had happened to Old Pipes, This was an 
Echo-dwarf who lived on the hills across the valley. 
It was his work to echo back the notes of the pipes 
whenever they could be heard. 

[A great many other Echo-dwarfs lived on these 
hills. They all worked, but in different ways. Some 
echoed back the songs of maidens, some the shouts of 
children, and others the music that was often heard 
in the village. But there was only one who could 
send back the strong notes of the pipes of Old Pipes, 
and this had been his sole duty for many years.] But 
when [the old man grew feeble, and] the notes of 
his pipes could not be heard [on the opposite hills,] 
this Echo- dwarf had nothing to do, and he spent his 
time in delightful idleness; [and he slept so much 
and grew so fat that it made his companions laugh to 
see him walk.] 

On the afternoon on which, after so long an inter- 
val, the sound of the pipes was heard on the echo hills, 
this dwarf was fast asleep behind a rock. As soon as 
the first notes reached them, soine of his companions 
ran to wake him up. Rolling to his feet, he echoed 
back the merry tune of Old Pipes. 

[Naturally, he was very angry at being thus 
obliged to give up his life of comfort, and he hoped 
very much that this pipe-playing would not occur 
again. The next afternoon, he was awake and listen- 
ing, and, sure enough, at the usual hour, along came 
the notes of the pipes, as clear and strong as they 
ever had been; and he was obliged to work as long 
as Old Pipes played.] The Echo-dwarf was very 
angry. He had supposed, of course, that the pipe- 
playing had ceased forever, [and he felt that he had 

146 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

a right to be indignant at being thus deceived.] He 
was so much disturbed that he made up his mind to 
go and try to find out how long this was to last. [He 
had plenty of time, as the pipes were played but once 
a day, and he set off early in the morning for the hill 
on which Old Pipes lived. It was hard work for the 
fat little fellow, and] when he had crossed the valley 
and had gone some distance into the woods on the 
hill-side, he stopped to rest, and in a few minutes the 
Dryad came tripping along. 

"Ho, ho! " exclaimed the dwarf; "what are you 
doing here? and how did you get out of your tree?" 

"Doing! " cried the Dryad; "I am being happy; 
that's what I am doing. And I was let out of my 
tree by the good old man who plays the pipes [to 
call the cattle down from the mountain. And it 
makes me happier to think that I have been of ser- 
vice to him.] I gave him two kisses of gratitude, and 
now he is young enough to play his pipes as well as 
ever." 

The Echo-dwarf stepped forward, his face pale with 
passion. " Am I to believe," he said, " that you are 
the cause of this great evil that has come upon me? 
and that you are the wicked creature who has again 
started this old man upon his career of pipe-playing? 
What have I ever done to you that you should have 
condemned me for years and years to echo back the 
notes of those wretched pipes ? " 

At this the Dryad laughed loudly. 

" What a funny little fellow you are ! " she said. 
"Anyone would think you had been condemned to 
toil from morning till night; [while what you really 
have to do is merely to imitate for half an hour 
every day the merry notes of Old Pipes's piping.] 

147 



STORY TELLING 

Fie upon you, Echo-dwarf! You are lazy and selfish; 
and that is what is the matter with you. [Instead of 
grumbling at being obliged to do a little wholesome 
work, which is less, I am sure, than that of any other 
echo-dwarf upon the rocky hill-side, you should re- 
joice at the good fortune of the old man who has re- 
gained so much of his strength and vigor.] Go home 
and learn to be just and generous; and then, per- 
haps, you may be happy. Good-bye." 

" Insolent creature ! " shouted the dwarf, as he 
shook his fat little fist at her. " I '11 make you suffer 
for this. [You shall find out what it is to heap in- 
jury and insult upon one like me, and to snatch from 
him the repose that he has earned by long years of 
toil."] And, shaking his head savagely, he hurried 
back to the rocky hill-side. 

[Every afternoon the merry notes of the pipes of 
Old Pipes sounded down into the valley and over 
-the hills and up the mountain-side; and every after- 
noon when he had echoed them back, the little dwarf 
grew more and more angry with the Dryad.] Each 
day, from early morning till it was time for him to 
go back to his duties upon the rocky hill-side, he 
searched the woods for her. [He intended, if he met 
her, to pretend to be very sorry for what he had 
said, and] he thought he might be able to play a 
trick upon her which would avenge him well. 

One day, while thus wandering among the trees, 
he met Old Pipes. [The Echo-dwarf did not generally 
care to see or speak to ordinary people; but now he 
was so anxious to find the object of his search, that] 
he stopped and asked Old Pipes if he had seen the 
Dryad. [The piper had not noticed the little fellow, 
and he looked down on him with some surprise.] 

148 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

"No," he said; "I have not seen her, and I have 
been looking everywhere for her." 

"You! " cried the dwarf, "what do you wish with 
her?" 

Old Pipes then [sat down on a stone, so that he 
should be nearer the ear of his small companion, and 
he] told what the Dryad had done for him. 

When the Echo-dwarf heard that this was the man 
whose pipes he was obliged to echo back every day, 
he would have slain him on the spot, had he been 
able; [but, as he was not able, he merely ground his 
teeth and listened to the rest of the story.] 

" I am looking for the Dryad now," Old Pipes con- 
tinued, " on account of my aged mother. [When I was 
old myself, I did not notice how very old my mother 
was; but now it shocks me to see how feeble her 
years have caused her to become; and] I am looking 
for the Dryad to ask her to make my mother younger, 
as she made me." 

The eyes of the Echo-dwarf glistened. [Here was 
a man who might help him in his plans.] 

" Your idea is a good one," he said to Old Pipes, 
[" and it does you honor.] But you should know that 
a Dryad can make no person younger but one who 
lets her out of her tree. [However, you can manage 
the affair very easily.] All you need do is to find the 
Dryad, tell her what you want, and request her to 
step into her tree and be shut up for a short time. 
Then you will go and bring your mother to the tree; 
she will open it, and everything will be as you wish. 
Is not this a good plan ? " 

"Excellent! " cried Old Pipes; "and I will go in- 
stantly and search more diligently for the Dryad." 

[" Take me with you," said the Echo-dwarf. " You 

149 



STORY TELLING 

can easily carry me on your strong shoulders; and 
I shall be glad to help you in any way that I can." 

" Now, then," said the little fellow to himself, as 
Old Pipes carried him rapidly along, " if he per- 
suades the Dryad to get into a tree, — and she is 
quite foolish enough to do it, — and then goes away 
to bring his mother, I shall take a stone or a club 
and I will break off the key of that tree, so that no- 
body can ever turn it again. Then Mistress Dryad 
will see what she has brought upon herself by her 
behavior to me."] 

Before long they came to the great oak-tree in 
which the Dryad had lived, and at a distance they 
saw that beautiful creature herself coming toward 
them. 

["How excellently well everything happens! " said 
the dwarf. " Put me down, and I will go. Your 
business with the Dryad is more important than mine ; 
and you need not say anything about my having sug- 
gested your plan to you. I am willing that you 
should have all the credit of it yourself."] 

Old Pipes put the Echo-dwarf upon the ground, but 
the little rogue did not go away. He hid himself 
between some low, mossy rocks, [and he was so much 
like them in color that you would not have noticed 
him if you had been looking straight at him.] 

When the Dryad came up, Old Pipes lost no time 
in telling her about his mother, and what he wished 
her to do. At first, the Dryad answered nothing, but 
stood looking very sadly at Old Pipes. 

" Do you really wish me to go into my tree again? " 
she said. " I should dreadfully dislike to do it, for 
I don't know what might happen. It is not at all 
necessary, for I could make your mother younger at 

150 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

any time if she would give me the opportunity. I 
had already thought of making you still happier in 
this way, and several times I have waited about your 
cottage, hoping to meet your aged mother, but she 
never comes outside, and you know a Dryad cannot 
enter a house. I cannot imagine what put this idea 
into your head. Did you think of it yourself ? " 

" No, I cannot say that I did," answered Old Pipes. 
" A little dwarf whom I met in the woods proposed 
it to me." 

"Oh!" cried the Dryad; "now I see through it 
all. It is the scheme of that vile Echo-dwarf — your 
enemy and mine. Where is he? I should like to see 
him." 
. " I think he has gone away," said Old Pipes. 

" No, he has not," said the Dryad, whose quick eyes 
perceived the Echo-dwarf among the rocks. " There 
he is. Seize him and drag him out, I beg of you." 

Old Pipes saw the dwarf as soon as he was pointed 
out to him; and running to the rocks, he caught the 
little fellow by the arm and pulled him out. 

" Now, then," cried the Dryad, who had opened the 
door of the great oak, '* just stick him in there, and 
we will shut him up. Then I shall be safe from his 
mischief for the rest of the time I am free." 

Old Pipes thrust the Echo-dwarf into the tree; the 
Dryad pushed the door shut; there was a clicking 
sound of bark and wood, and no one would have no- 
ticed that the big oak had ever had an opening in it. 

"There," said the Dryad; "now we need not be 
afraid of him. And I assure you, my good piper, that 
I shall be very glad to make your mother younger as 
Boon as I can. Will you not ask her to come out and 
meet me ? " 

151 



STORY TELLING 

"Of course I will," cried Old Pipes; "and I will 
do it without delay." 

And then, the Dryad by his side, he hurried to his 
cottage. But when he mentioned the matter to his 
mother, the old woman became very angry indeed. 
She did not believe in Dryads; [and, if they really did 
exist, she knew they must be witches and sorceresses, 
and she would have nothing to do with them. If her 
son had ever allowed himself to be kissed by one of 
them, he ought to be ashamed of himself. As to its 
doing him the least bit of good, she did not believe 
a word of it. He felt better than he used to feel, but 
that was very common. She had sometimes felt that 
way herself,] and she forbade liim ever to mention a 
Dryad to her again. 

[That afternoon, Old Pipes, feeling very sad that 
his plan in regard to his mother had failed, sat down 
upon the rock and played upon his pipes. The pleas- 
ant sounds went down the valley and up the hills and 
mountain, but, to the great surprise of some persons 
who happened to notice the fact, the notes were not 
echoed back from the rocky hill-side, but from the 
woods on the side of the valley on which Old Pipes 
lived. The next day many of the villagers stopped in 
their work to listen to the echo of the pipes coming 
from the woods. The sound was not as clear and 
strong as it used to be when it was sent back from 
the rocky hill-side, but it certainly came from among 
the trees. Such a thing as an echo changing its place 
in this way had never been heard of before, and no- 
body was able to explain how it could have happened. 
Old Pipes, however, knew very well that the sound 
came from the Echo-dwarf shut up in the great oak- 
tree. The sides of the tree were thin, and the sound 

152 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

of the pipes could be heard through them, and the 
dwarf was obliged by the laws of his being to echo 
back those notes whenever they came to him. But 
Old Pipes thought he might get the Dryad in trouble 
if he let anyone know that the Echo-dwarf was shut 
up in the tree, and so he wisely said nothing about it.] 

One day the two boys and the girl who had helped 
Old Pipes up the hill were playing in the woods. 
Stopping near the great oak-tree, they heard a sound 
of knocking within it, and then a voice plainly said: 

" Let me out ! let me out ! " 

For a moment the children stood still in astonish- 
ment, and then one of the boys exclaimed: 

" Oh, it is a Dryad, like the one Old Pipes found ! 
Let 's let her out ! " 

" What are you thinking of ? " cried the girl. " I am 
the oldest of all, and I am only thirteen. Do you wish 
to be turned into crawling babies? Run! run! run! " 

And the two boys and the girl dashed down into the 
valley as fast as their legs could carry them. [There 
was no desire in their youthful hearts to be made 
younger than they were, and for fear that their par- 
ents might think it well that they should commence 
their careers aneV, they never said a word about 
finding the Dryad tree.] 

As the summer days went on, Old Pipes' mother 
grew feebler and feebler. [One day when her son was 
away, for he now frequently went into the woods to 
hunt or fish, or down into the valley to work, she 
arose from her knitting to prepare the simple dinner. 
But she felt so weak and tired that she was not able 
to do the work to which she had been so long accus- 
tomed.] "Alas! alas!" she said, ["the time has 
come when I am too old to work. My son will have 

153 



STORY TELLING 

to hire some one to come here and cook his meals, 
make his bed, and mend his clothes. Alas! alas! I 
had hoped that as long as I lived I should be able to 
do these things. But it is not so.] I have grown 
utterly worthless, and some one else must prepare the 
dinner for my son. I wonder where he is." And 
tottering to the door, she went outside to look for 
him. She did not feel able to stand, and reaching the 
rustic chair, she sank into it, quite exhausted, and 
Boon fell asleep. 

The Dryad, who had often come to the cottage [to 
see if she could find an opportunity of carrying out 
Old Pipes' affectionate design, now happened by; and 
seeing that the much -desired occasion had come, she] 
stepped up quietly behind the old woman and gently 
kissed her on each cheek, and then as quietly dis- 
appeared. 

In a few minutes the mother of Old Pipes awoke, 
and looking up at the sun, she exclaimed: "Why, it 
is almost dinner-time! My son will be here directly, 
and I am not ready for him." [And rising to her feet, 
she hurried into the house, made the fire, set the meat 
and vegetables to cook, laid the cloth, and by the 
time her son arrived the meal was on the table.] 

" How a little sleep does refresh one," she said to 
herself, as she was bustling about. [She was a woman 
of very vigorous constitution, and at seventy had been 
a great deal stronger and more active than her son 
was at that age.] The moment Old Pipes saw his 
mother, he knew that the Dryad had been there; but, 
while he felt as happy as a king, he was too wise to 
say anything about her. 

[" It is astonishing how well I feel to-day," said his 
mother; " and either my hearing has improved or you 

154 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

speak much more plainly than you have done of 
late."] 

The summer days went on and passed away, the 
leaves were falling from the trees, and the air was 
becoming cold. 

" Nature has ceased to be lovely," said the Dryad, 
" and the night winds chill me. It is time for me to 
go back into my comfortable quarters in the great 
oak. But first I must pay another visit to the cot- 
tage of Old Pipes." 

She found the piper and his mother sitting side by 
side on the rock in front of the door. [The cattle 
were not to go to the mountain any more that season, 
and he was piping them down for the last time. 
Loud and merrily sounded the pipes of Old Pipes, and 
down the mountain-side came the cattle — the cows by 
the easiest paths, the sheep by those not quite so easy, 
and the goats by the most difficult ones among the 
rocks; while from the great oak-tree were heard the 
echoes of the cheerful music] 

" How happy they look, sitting there together," said 
the Dryad ; " and I don't believe it will do them a bit 
of harm to be still younger." And moving quietly 
up behind them, she first kissed Old Pipes on his 
cheek and then kissed his mother. 

[Old Pipes, who had stopped playing, knew what it 
was, but he did not move, and said nothing. His 
mother, thinking that her son had kissed her, turned 
to him with a smile and kissed him in return. And 
then she arose and went into the cottage, a vigorous 
woman of sixty, followed by her son, erect and happy, 
and twenty years younger than herself.] 

The Dryad sped away to the woods, shrugging her 
shoulders as she felt the cool evening wind. 

155 



STORY TELLING 

When she reached the great oak, she turned the key 
and opened the door. " Come out," she said to the 
Echo-dwarf, who sat blinking within. " Winter is 
coming on, and I want the comfortable shelter of my 
tree for myself. [The cattle have come down from 
the mountain for the last time this year, the pipes 
will no longer sound, and you can go to your rocks 
and have a holiday until next spring."] 

Upon hearing these words the dwarf skipped quickly 
out, and the Dryad entered the tree and pulled the 
door shut after her. " Now, then," she said to her- 
self, " he can break off the key if he likes. It does 
not matter to me. Another will grow out next spring. 
And although the good piper made me no promise, I 
know that when the warm days arrive next year, he 
will come and let me out again." 

The Echo-dwarf did not stop to break the key of 
the tree. He was too happy to be released to think 
of anything else, and he hastened as fast as he could 
to his home on the rocky hill-side. 

The Dryad was not mistaken when she trusted in 
the piper. When the warm days came again he went 
to the oak tree to let her out. But, to his sorrow 
and surprise, he found the great tree lying upon the 
ground. A winter storm had blown it down, and it 
lay with its trvmk shattered and split. And what 
became of the Dryad no one ever knew. 

Note. — The portions of the text within the brackets may well 
be omitted in telling this story in a program on account of the 
length. 



156 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

THE MONK AND THE BIRD ^ 

From Scudder's " Book of Legends " 

There was an old monk who had led a holy life, doing 
good all his days. And one reason why he had done 
good was because he lived much with God. 

Early in the morning, before others had risen, he 
was on his knees praying to the Father of all, giving 
thanks for all his mercies, and asking for grace to 
lead a holy life that day. And late at night, when 
others slept, he lingered long on his knees, talking 
with God as with his dearest friend. 

Not only did this monk pray in the chapel, and by 
the side of his narrow bed, but as he walked about 
doing good deeds his lips moved, and he scarcely saw 
anyone else, for he was praying in silence. He was 
always glad to escape from himself to the thought of 
God. 

So when he was an old, old man, he was one day in 
the garden of the monastery. He was too old and 
feeble now to go away amongst the poor and sick; 
but the poor and. sick, young and old, were glad when 
they could come to him and receive his blessing. 

It was a lovely morning hour in early summer, and 
the garden was sweet with odors of roses. The air 
was soft and still. The old monk had been helped 
out to a garden-bench, and there left. He was in 
perfect peace, and when he was alone he sank upon 
his knees by the bench, and lifted his peaceful soul in 
prayer and praise. 

As he prayed there came a sweet, pure note to his 

1 Copyright, 1899, Houghton Mifflin Co. Used by per- 
mission. 

157 



STORY TELLING 

ear. It did not disturb him. He knew it for the 
voice of one of God's happy creatures, and as he 
prayed, he listened with a smile to this bird singing 
in one of the rose trees in the garden. He thought 
he never had heard anything so liquid as the song of 
this bird. 

The notes so filled his soul that he rose from his 
knees to listen to the song. He rested his hands on 
his stout stick and listened. Then he drew near the 
rose-tree from which the song came. 

As he drew near, the little bird continued singing 
and then fled to a grove farther away, and again 
began calling with its sweet note. The old monk, for- 
getting everything else, eagerly pressed forward. It 
was as if he heard some bird of God. 

Oh, rapture! he neared the bird again and heard 
the pure notes sounding clearer and clearer. Once 
more the bird filled his soul and he listened, listened. 
Then away flew the bird, and led him by its song to 
a farther grove. Still the old man pressed on. 

Tlius hour by hour the heavenly bird sang, and 
hour by hour the old monk listened intent. He would 
not lose a note. But at last the bird's song grew 
gentler, until it ceased altogether. The day was 
nearing its close. 

Then the happy old man set his face westward, and 
made his way back toward the monastery, carrying 
the memory of the song which mingled with his 
prayer, so that he scarce knew whether he was pray- 
ing or listening to the music. 

It was nightfall when he found himself once again 
within the garden; but it was not yet dark, and in 
the evening light he looked about him at the old 
scene. He was perplexed at the appearance of things. 

158 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

There was the convent, there was the garden, and. 
yet nothing looked quite as when he had left the 
place. 

As he stood wondering, a brother monk drew near. 
He wore the familiar dress, yet his face seemed 
strange. Well as our old monk knew all the brethren, 
this newcomer he could not remember ever to have 
seen. But he must needs speak to him, and he asked : 

" What has happened ? Why is it that everything 
looks so changed since morning? What has taken 
place? But perhaps you have only just come. Is 
Brother Andrew within ? " 

The Tnonk looked at him as he spoke, and he won- 
dered as he looked. " Why," said he, " there has been 
no change here to-day, no, nor for many years. I 
have myself been here ten years come Michaelmas. 
There is no Brother Andrew amongst us. But thou? 
pray, who art thou? and whence camest thou? This 
is the dress of the order, though somewhat old, but I 
have never seen thee before. What is thy name, good 
brother ? " 

The old monk, much wondering, told his name, and 
said further : " It was only this morning, early this 
morning, that I le'ft the garden, for I heard the song 
of a bird, and it was like a song let down from 
heaven to draw me up." 

Now when the younger monk heard tlie name, he 
fell on his knees, and took the robe of the other in his 
hand, and bowed over it. Then he told him how it 
was written in the books of the monastery that a 
holy man of that name had strangely disappeared out 
of their sight two hundred years ago. 

" And it was written," he said, " that like as the 
Lord God buried his servant Moses and no man knew 

159 



STORY TELLING 

where he was buried, so did he hide from our sight 
this holy brother." 

At that, a smile spread over the face of the old 
monk, and he lifted up his voice and said, " My hour 
of death is come. Blessed be the name of the Lord for 
all his mercies to me," and so he breathed out his 
spirit. 

Then all the monks in the monastery were called 
to witness this strange sight; and the young monk 
who had held converse with the old man turned to 
his brethren and said: 

" God be merciful to me a sinner ! When this old 
man drew near to me I was thinking to myself, how 
can I bear the thought of an eternity of happiness? 
shall I not weary of endless peace? but lo! our 
brother heard a bird of God for but a single day as 
he thought, and it was two hundred years. Surely 
a thousand years in His sight are but as yesterday, 
and as a day that is past." 

Sara Cone Bryant's two books, " How to 
Tell Stories to Children " and " Stories to 
Tell to Children " ; the Bulletin of the Car- 
negie Library of Pittsburgh on " Stories to 
Tell to Children under Twelve Years of 
Age"; Eva Tappan's "The Children's 
Hour " and the story teller's magazine, " The 
Story-hour," all furnish suggestions for the 
stories to be used in the miscellaneous pro- 
gram. Such books as the collections of fairy 
and folk tales of Joseph Jacobs, the Grimm 
160 



MISCELLANEOUS STORIES 

brothers, Sir George Dasent, and Hans Chris- 
tian Andersen ought to be possessions of 
every story teller. 

Note. — The suggestion for the manner in which a text is cut for 
telling as shown in " Old Pipes and the Dryad " should be fol- 
lowed in all of the longer stories given in these programs. 



161 



CHAPTER V 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 



Biography a source for stories to tell ; the dramatic element 
necessary for a good story to tell; suggestions Jor biog- 
raphies to tell. 

ONE of the problems which confront 
the novice in storj telling is the ques- 
tion where to obtain the best material, and 
he is apt to overlook the most obvious source 
of supply, because he is not quite certain 
what are the requirements of that material. 

The child who has lost something of his 
interest in fairy tales and other imaginative 
literature craves the realistic story, or the 
recital of actual fact, a legitimate desire 
which should suggest a field little used by 
story tellers, but full of great possibilities. 

.We are so familiar with the old saying 
" Truth is stranger than fiction " that it has 
ceased to have much meaning for us, but as 
applied to the dramatic quality of the bio- 
graphical story it is really significant. The 
162 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 

child is already looking for a hero, the atti- 
tude of hero worship continuing through the 
years of his evolution into youth; and cir- 
cumstances and association will be largely 
responsible for the heroes who succeed each 
other in his affections. 

History, as some one has said, is but a 
series of biographies, and if we are careful 
to choose the lives of such characters in his- 
tory as may be said to represent the hero 
idea, we shall be serving two purposes at once 
■ — teaching history while we gratify the love 
of the hero. 

Some feel inclined to shun biographical 
stories because they feel that there is no art 
possible in the presentation of mere facts. A 
little reflection, however, will show that facts 
are not lifeless bones, but may be clothed in 
as beautiful form and throb with as vigor- 
ous pulses of life as any purely imaginative 
creation. 

Mr. Winchester says in his " Principles 
of Literary Criticism " : " But a moment's 
reflection will show us that the imagination is 
no less necessary in the more sober and pe- 
destrian varieties of literature. In history, 
163 



STORY TELLING 

for example. The historian needs imagina- 
tion, first, to secure the truth of his work. 
He must see his men and women if he would 
judge them rightly. It is his task not merely 
to arrange and chronicle facts, but rather, 
from scattered memoranda, from fragmen- 
tary and often conflicting records, to re- 
create the men and women of the past as 
they were, real living persons whose motives 
shall be clear to us. He must do more than 
that. He must set these persons in their 
proper environment of circumstance, and he 
must further recreate for us that complex, 
indefinable something we call the spirit of 
the age, its characteristic feelings, prefer- 
ences, modes of judgment." 

" And if the historian needs imagination to 
insure the truth of his work, he needs it 
still more to give that work interest and last- 
ing literary value ... the great historians 
whose work has recognized and permanent 
value have always known how to present 
their story vividly before our imagination 
and thus give to it the movement and charm 
of real life." 

If the story teller is to present history 
164 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 

or biography it will easily be seen, from the 
standard which Mr. Winchester sets, how 
vital a part imagination has to play in order 
to preserve truthfulness of statement and at 
the same time to give literary value to the 
story. 

The beginner in the art of story telling 
will find that the historical or biographical 
story is much less difficult to handle than 
purely imaginative material, because the foun- 
dation of fact is a firm one on which to stand, 
and will give a definite skeleton about which 
to work. The most difficult stories to tell are 
those which depend for their charm upon the 
atmosphere rather than the plot, the subtle- 
ties of words and phrases and the impres- 
sions created by them, rather than a defi- 
nite line of action carried forward by the 
characters. 

If the very deeds of a man are picturesque, 
a recital of them is in itself convincing, and 
so in a sense, these biographical stories tell 
themselves if the subjects are well chosen. 

There is perhaps no place where the per- 
sonal equation will count for so much as in 
the telling of these stories. A genuine liking 
165 



STORY TELLING 

for the character to be portrayed is an al- 
most necessary factor because there may be 
little of literary merit connected with the 
source material which will inspire the narra- 
tor with enthusiasm for his story. The 
writer of history or biography may find it 
incumbent upon him to treat of some subject 
entirely distasteful to him personally, yet he 
may handle it with so masterly and impartial 
a style as almost to deceive the reader as to 
his own attitude. 

But the very presence of the story teller 
before his audience makes it impossible to 
conceal what he feels, and necessitates a 
treatment of the material with something of 
the approach of the hero-worshipper. One 
can hardly imagine a skald or a troubadour 
deliberately rehearsing the deeds of one 
whom he secretly despised, unless they 
formed the shadow which made the sunlight 
of heroic accomplishment shine brighter. 

For this reason it is impossible to make 
arbitrary lists of characters whose histories 
it is desirable to repeat. The story teller 
must use his own discretion to a large ex- 
tent in his selection, being careful, however, 
166 



BIOGRAPHICAI. STORIES 

not to let personal caprice prejudice his 
judgment concerning the lives which have such 
universal interest and dramatic power that 
association and study would show them to 
have exceptional value for story telling. 

We all recognize the value to society of 
men and women who go faithfully about their 
daily tasks, never achieving fame or glory by 
especially notable deeds. But in spite of the 
fact that they are perhaps the most desirable 
constituents of society, the very uneventful- 
ness of their lives robs them of the dramatic 
quality necessary for a good story. 

Again, we find the record of a life which 
runs on the even tenor of its way for years, 
when suddenly a turn of the wheel of Fortune 
changes it from a prosaic existence to one full 
of adventure a;id unusual happenings. These 
dramatic episodes may well become the sub- 
ject of a story, but since they are the really 
significant thing, the other events of the biog- 
raphy should be used only as a background. 
Grace Darling and Father Damien furnish 
examples of such stirring incidents in other- 
wise uneventful careers. Explorers like La 
Salle and George Rogers Clark, rulers like 
167 



STORY TELLING 

Alfred the Great and William the Conqueror, 
seem studies made to order for a series of 
stories of the most thrilling character. Na- 
poleon and Garibaldi, as masters of accom- 
plishment, are men, phases of whose lives 
yield splendid story material for children. 

St. Francis of Assisi and Robert the Bruce 
represent the type of devotion to an ideal, 
religious and patriotic, which in itself is in- 
spiring. The fact that historians are declar- 
ing that William Tell is a myth, and that the 
stories about Robert the Bruce we have loved 
are not true, really does not make any differ- 
ence about the value of telling these stories to 
children. 

It will be better, however, to tell the chil- 
dren at the close of a William Tell cycle 
that historians are questioning the truth of 
these stories, but whether such a man really 
lived or not does not matter, because he repre- 
sents the patriotic spirit of the Swiss so per- 
fectly that there are many men who might 
have borne his name. 

Joan of Arc is perhaps as good an illus- 
tration as we have of biographical material 
for a cycle of stories. No character in his- 
168 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 

tory is more fascinating, uniting as it does 
the elements of military heroism, devotion to 
a cause, and that cause patriotic, strength 
and simplicity of character. Great care 
should be used in telling the opening chapters 
of the story, because of the supernatural 
element of " the voices." These do not need 
to be explained, neither should they be done 
away with, for the attitude of children even 
as old as those who will be interested in 
Joan's story will in most cases be that of 
simple acceptance. Boutet de Monvel records 
this part of the story with a simplicity which 
is worthy of imitation. 

"One summer day, when she was thirteen yeara 
old, she heard a voice at midday in her father's 
garden. A great light shone upon her, and the arch- 
angel St. Michael appeared to her. He told her to 
be a good girl and go to church. Then, telling her 
of the great mercy which was in store for the King- 
dom of France, he announced to her that she should 
go to the help of the Dauphin and bring him to be 
crowned at Rheims. ' I am only a poor girl,' she 
said. ' God will help thee,' answered the archangel. 
And the child, overcome, was left weeping. 

" From this day, Joan's piety became still more ar- 
dent. The child loved to go apart from her play- 
mates to meditate, and heavenly voices spoke to her, 
telling her of her mission. 



STORY TELLING 

"These, she said, were the voices of her Saints. 
Often the voices were accompanied by visions. St. 
Catherine and St. Margaret appeared to her. * I have 
seen them with my bodily eyes,' she said later to her 
judges, ' and when they left me I used to cry. I 
wanted them to take me with them.' 

"The girl grew, her mind elevated by her visions, 
and her inmost heart keeping the secret of her heav- 
enly intercourse." 



The original records are so utilized that 
the author has given the strongest rendering 
of the storj possible. Wherever funds per- 
mit, this beautiful book should be the posses- 
sion of children not only because of 'the 
beauty and strength of the text, but because 
the story is repeated so marvellously in the 
illustrations of this artist. 

Before telling this story, the narrator will 
be greatly helped if he can read some sym- 
pathetic biography not intended for children 
and then take the text for his stories from a 
more simple and condensed form. 

H. Morse Stephens speaks of Francis C. 
Lowell's " Joan of Arc " as " distinctively 
the best thing in the English language on the 
life and career of the Maid of Orleans." 

Material to be used as a text for the tell- 
170 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 

ing of the story, and which can afterward be 
given to the children for reading, will be 
found in any of the following books. 

The Red True Story Book. — Lang 

The Story of Joan of Aec (Children's Heroes 
Series ) . — Lang 

Stories of Old France. — Pitman 

Brave Deeds. — Trowbridge 

The Maid of Orleans (Life Stories for Young 
People Series ) . — Upton 

A cycle of five stories will cover the history 
of Joan's life and the most important inci- 
dents covered in the following outline: 

First story: A few words in the intro- 
duction to explain the political situation, the 
struggle between the two kings for the 
possession of France. Girlhood of Joan, 
call of " the yoices," and the visit to the 
Dauphin. 

Second story: Attack and delivery of 
Orleans. 

Third story: Defeat of the English and 
crowning of the Dauphin. 

Fourth story: Treachery of Paris and 
capture of Joan. 

Fifth story : Joan's trial and death. 
171 



STORY TELLING 

A SUGGESTIVE LIST OF BOOKS FOR 
BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 

Alfred the Great 

Fifty Famous Stories. — Baldwin 

In the Days of Alfred the Great. — Tappan 

Stories from English History. — Warren 

George Rogers Clark 

Pioneers of the Mississippi Valley. — McMuRBY 
Four American Pioneers. — Perry and Beebe 

Father Damien 

Alice's Visit to the Hawaiian Islands. — Kraus 
Tlie Red True Story Book of Heroes. — Lang 

Grace Darling 

Fifty Famous Stories. — Baldwin 
The Blue TVue Story Book. — Lang 
The True Story Book. — Lang 

Francis of Assisi 

Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts. — Brown 
In God's Garden. — Stedman 

Garibaldi 

Lives of Poor Boys who Became Famous. — Bolton 

General Gordon 

The Story of General Gordon (Children's Heroes 
Series ) . — Lang, Jlanie 

La Salle 

The Discovery of the Old Northwest. — Baldwin 
The Pioneers of the Mississippi Valley. — McMurry 
Parkman's Works. (Read as much as possible.) 

Napoleon 

Famous Leaders among Men. — Bolton 
The Boys' Book of Famous Rulers. — Fabmeb 
The Boy Life of Napoleon. — FoA 

172 



BIOGRAPHICAL STORIES 

Napoleon the Little Corsican. — Hathaway 
The Story of Napoleon ( Children's Heroes Series ) . — 
Marshall 

ROBEET THE BrUCE 

Fifty Famous Stories. — Baldwin 

Boys' Book of Famous Rulers. — Farmer 

The Story of the English. — Guerber 

The Story of Robert the Bruce ( Children's Heroes 

Series). — Lang, Jeanie 
William Tell 

Fifty Famous Stories. — Baldwin 

Ten Great Events in History. — Johonnot 

Stories of William Tell (Told to the Children 

Series ) . — Marshall 
The Book of Legends. — Scudder 
William Tell (Life Stories for Young People 

Series ) . — Upton 
William the Conqueror 
Historic Boys. — Brooks 
In the Days of William the Conqueror. — Tappan 



173 



CHAPTER VI 

NATIONAL EPIC TALES 
What is an epic? Why they are good stories to tell. 

" r^ HILDREN — all children, one im- 
^^ agines, since the line of cleavage is 
not developed until later — love fiction be- 
cause it gives form to their unformulated long- 
ing for adventure, and makes articulate their 
unvoiced dreams of romantic achievement." 

Perhaps it is because the folk and fairy 
tales, and the great epic literature of the 
world, were first recited to groups of eager 
listeners and were not produced with the 
idea of a printed form, that they furnish 
the most successful sources of material for 
the story teller. Excellent sources of fairy 
tales have been cited in books already re- 
ferred to, and such selections should not 
only be used for the younger child, but should 
stand as types of any new material which the 
story teller himself may find. It is not the 
purpose of the present volume, however, to 
174 



NATIONAL EPIC TALES 

concern itself primarily with the problem of 
the younger child, whom we have considered 
possibly overmuch, to the neglect of his older 
brother, who suffers even more than he from 
ignorant and thoughtless suggestion of every 
kind. 

When the boy and girl have outgrown their 
fairy tales, have cast aside the stories of 
Indians and primitive men, when Robinson 
Crusoe is no longer so large a hero as he 
was, and the reahstic stories of everyday 
life pall on them, then the cry for adventure 
becomes persistent and is not to be denied. 
Hero they must have, and if one of heroic 
proportions is not supplied, they will be- 
come the prey of an imitation which for the 
time satisfies their desires. 

The heroic ideal has changed with the 
progress of civilization ; never has the world 
demanded as much of a man who is to be a 
hero as at the present time. 

In the same way the ideals of children 
develop, and the hero of their early admira- 
tion is the man of action, of deeds, of physi- 
cal courage; later they learn that there is 
a higher type of hero, the man who endures, 
175 



STORY TELLINGt 

who suffers and lives for a principle — the 
hero of moral courage. 

We cannot force the child's growth any 
more than we can change the natural devel- 
opment of nations. If, when the child first 
craves adventure, he is met with a hero of the 
type which he can understand, we may trust 
to time for the development of his standards. 
This does not mean that he is to be given less 
than a real hero at any time, but that, so 
long, for instance, as physical courage is the 
only courage he can appreciate, he shall be 
met with worthy examples of men who dared 
and accomplished material achievement. 

The cleverness of many modern writers in 
seizing the opportunity which the love of 
adventure offers for supplying an inexhaus- 
tible stream from the press is certainly 
worthy of comment. They are wise in thus 
catering to desire which is not a passing 
fad, but there is no wisdom which can justify 
the acceptance of mere printed stuff, simply 
because it will satisfy the demand of the 
child for something to read. 

It is not merely a question of reading, it 
is also a question of character, for the man 
176 



NATIONAL EPIC TALES 

who becomes a hero for the child becomes 
at the same time a model for his imitation. 

There exists no greater source of hero 
stories, valuable both as literature and as 
portrayals of noble character, than that fur- 
nished by the national epic literature. The 
term " classics " is to many synonymous 
with that which is stupid and uninteresting; 
but instead of being, as they seem to think, 
a dead and lifeless relic of a bygone day, 
it is in reality the body of literature which 
has retained a place for itself during all the 
passage of years, because there is in it some- 
thing of such a quality that it cannot die. 
Leon Gautier, the authoritative critic and 
translator of the " Chanson de Roland," 
says : " If lyrical poetry is essentially per- 
sonal, epic poetry is essentially national. It 
can grow only out of a people which is al- 
ready a nation, with a national conscious- 
ness, and which combines four qualities not 
rare to find in simple times: it must be re- 
ligiously inclined, warlike, unsophisticated, 
and fond of song. I may add that the na- 
tion should not, at the moment it produces 
the epic, be in a calm and prosperous con- 
177 



STORY TELLING 

dition; peace never yet gave birth to an 
epic. It needs a struggle, its birthplace is 
a battle-field, amidst the dying who have 
given their lives to some great cause. So 
much for soil. Then the epic needs matter 
— some positive central fact, which it will 
enlarge upon in telling it. The fact almost 
always is historical, and mostly sad, — a de- 
feat, a death. . . . Lastly, it must have a 
hero, and the hero must completely embody 
his time and nationality. His personality 
must tower above the epic fact, so that this 
fact be nothing without him and derive all its 
importance from him." 

Notwithstanding the fact that the epic 
had its birth in the life of a single nation, 
it contains those typically human character- 
istics which make it one of the great univer- 
sal books which in a sense know neither time 
nor nationality. 

The national epics are not desirable to 
give to children simply because they are 
classics and should form part of the child's 
education, but because they are adapted to 
his enjoyment and contain models for imi- 
tation worthy of his metal. 
178 



NATION.\L EPIC TALES 

There are some who maintain that all 
the national epics should be told to children, 
but it would seem that no literature is suit- 
able for a child unless it portrays ideas and 
experiences which lie within the field of his 
knowledge or the grasp of his understand- 
ing. For example, the great classic of 
Dante has been retold for children. The 
significance of this marvellous poem, surely, 
can touch only the mature experience and 
should be reserved for the relatively later 
years of life. 

On the other hand, the most characteristic 
qualities of the Odyssey are identical with 
the interests of a child from eleven to four- 
teen. Its composition makes it one of the 
most perfect of the stories of adventure, for 
there is a central figure which gives it unity 
and binds the separate stories together, 
while the motive of getting home, gives to 
the adventures the character of incidents, 
not of central themes. The interests of the 
story are adapted to the child, the cleverness 
and resourcefulness of the hero as well as 
his determined purpose appeal to him. 

The question of the age for which the 
179 



STORY TELLING 

hero stories are adapted gives rise to a wide 
diversity of opinion. Many people believe 
that if the text, or a portion of it, is suffi- 
ciently simplified the same story can be given 
suitably to any age in a modified version. 

It must be admitted that it is possible to 
interest a little child in the merest fragment 
of Robinson Crusoe, but in order to bring 
the tale within his comprehension, it must 
of necessity be robbed of all that gives it 
charm and vitality. Would it not be better 
to supply this child from the vast store- 
house of folk-lore and fairy tales which can 
be used in most cases in their original form, 
and reserve Robinson Crusoe for a time when 
he may step upon the stage in the guise and 
stature of a true hero? The occasional child 
will be found who enjoys this piecemeal 
acquaintance, and will rejoice to add to his 
knowledge of Ulysses as he meets him from 
kindergarten to high school, but for most of 
them the dwarf of the early version is the one 
which contents them, and the high-water 
mark of interest is entirely missed because 
they were not allowed to wait until the appeal 
was made by the masterpiece itself. 
180 



NATIONAL EPIC TALES 

The retort may be made, that consistency; 
will demand that people should not read the 
masterpieces till they can do so in the orig- 
inal, but this position is certainly not ten- 
able unless foreign languages are among the 
early acquisitions of childhood. 

The tales which will be selected for chil- 
dren from these national hero stories are rich 
in adventure, full of action, romance, and 
deeds of bravery; but the adventure, the 
action, and even the romance are of the na- 
ture to appeal to a boy rather than a man, 
to the years of bodily rather than of mental 
activity, to the days of simplicity not com- 
plexity, to the openness of boyhood instead 
of the introspective analysis of manhood, 
and for this reason they will find a spon- 
taneous response almost entirely lacking in 
mature years. 

The spirit of the stories is the spirit of 
youth; their very origin in the days when 
all the world was young and when a single 
hero was credited with every possible and 
impossible virtue as is the way of youth, 
fits them preeminently to be not the stories 
of adult life, but the stories of the days 
181 



STORY TELLING 

when the world is growing up. It is cer- 
tainly important to see that the translating 
or retelling keeps the atmosphere and spirit 
of the original ; but if we have such a version 
it may well be used when it can sway and 
hold the imagination of the child. 

It is certainly a most desirable and happy 
thing for a child to grow up in a home 
where the famous names of history and lit- 
erature are spoken often and with familiar- 
ity, where without knowing it he makes 
acquaintances among the world's great char- 
acters long before he can appreciate the 
story of their deeds. Unconsciously he be- 
comes interested, and at length inquires the 
significance of what he at first took for 
granted, hearing the stories of these men 
and events when his mind is ripe for them. 
But such a condition is entirely different in 
its results from the presentation of a story 
simplified out of all likeness to the original 
for the definite purpose of giving it to a 
child in a form he can grasp. 

If a study of these national epics is made 
they will be found to be pictures painted on 
big canvases, with huge brushes, often rep- 
182 



NATIONAL EPIC TALES 

resenting very elemental emotions and vir- 
tues, but pictures which breathe out courage 
and strength, justice, if not always the finer 
quality of mercy, quick decision and re- 
sourcefulness, sometimes even unselfishness 
and devotion to principle. Such qualities 
are worthy of Imitation, and, modified by the 
spirit of altruism which will come later, will 
make sterling men and noble women of the 
hero-worshippers of to-day. 



183 



CHAPTER VII 

HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

Robin Hood; Roland; The Cid; Frithjof; The Odyssey; 
King Arthur; Rustem; Beowulf ; Sigurd. 

IN order to do the most effective work with 
the hero stories contained in these na- 
tional epics it is better, under ordinary cir- 
cumstances, to separate boys and girls, and 
to remember that most of these appeal in 
a different way to a younger and older group 
of either boys or girls. The first group, — 
fifth, sixth, and seventh grades, is interested 
in adventure, battle, and conquest for the 
things themselves, and loves the knights and 
heroes of the adventures only as they rep- 
resent accomplishment. They do not see the 
deeper meaning of chivalry nor care for its 
romance, these are the added concern of the 
second group. For this reason, the epics 
where women do not figure, or only inciden- 
tally, will be most popular with the first 
184 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

group, particularly if composed of boys, 
and the stories of deeper spiritual signifi- 
cance and more romantic plots should be 
reserved for the succeeding grades. 

It will be evident that, following this idea, 
the stories of King Arthur, as well as others, 
may be told for either group, but the selec- 
tion of the stories will be somewhat different, 
as the emphasis is laid on the heroic or the 
spiritual significance of the epics. 

In telling the Odyssey or the stories of 
Sigurd, Frithjof, or Siegfried, it will add 
much to the children's enjoyment, as well as 
to their fuller understanding of these clas- 
sics, if they have already had a series of 
stories taken from Greek mythology in the 
one case and Norse in the others, which will 
have made thenv familiar with the names and 
characteristics of the gods to whom refer- 
ence is so frequently made. 

The stories which will be recommended in 
this chapter will include certain classic hero 
tales which under the narrow use of the word 
epic would be excluded, but which can be 
included under a broad definition. The sto- 
ries of Robin Hood, for example, do not com- 
185 



STORY TELLING 

pose an epic ; but the ballads about this hero 
came from the hearts of the people, and are 
so closely related that they may be consid- 
ered as a literary whole. 

The study is in no sense exhaustive, and 
even a change of opinion with regard to the 
suitability of certain classics for children 
may occur after the printing of these pages. 
For the present, the great Hindu poems 
of "The Ramayana" and "The Maha- 
Bharata," " The Kalevala " of Finland, " The 
Divine Comedy " from Italy, " The Mneid " 
and the "Iliad," "Paradise Lost" and 
'' Jerusalem Delivered," though ranking as 
truly great epics, have not been considered, 
because they have treated of subjects which 
were beyond the understanding or interest of 
children, or because the material itself is 
lacking in unity, simplicity, or other quali- 
fications necessary in a story for telling. 
There are, in some cases, many versions 
which might have been suggested as " tell- 
ing " texts with equal reason, but it has 
seemed wise, considering the purpose of this 
volume, to give one, or at most two, books 
from which the story teller may be able to 
18G 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

get his material so that he may not find him- 
self poor because of too great wealth. 

No effort has been made to send the story 
teller back to the original sources of the 
stories, or to translations, because experi- 
ence has led to the conviction that the re- 
telling of the story, which is most nearly like 
the form to be used in the oral presentation, 
will be the thing most helpful to the unpro- 
fessional story teller. To prepare the story 
from a translation requires the time, the im- 
agination, and the skill in handling material 
which are the possession and equipment of 
the professional. 

Whenever the narrator of a story is able 
to add background to his material and get 
the spirit of the age and nation which the 
tale represents b,y reading translations and 
related books, it is much to be desired, but it 
is recognized that for many people who must 
tell stories in schools and homes and libraries, 
the time required for this reading is impos- 
sible to command. 

Some of the stories which will be outlined 
here for use in cycles have been fully worked 
out and are available in print in separate 
187 



STORY TELLING 

pamphlets through the courtesy of the 
Carnegie Library of Pittsburg, 

Robin Hood 

Of the many heroes which appeal to chil- 
dren, there is probably none who can so easily 
carry off the palm for popularity as Robin 
Hood. He is no less a favorite with girls than 
with boys, and the old ballad makers, whoever 
they were, met the demand of the day for a 
story, a good story, and one which did not take 
too long in the telling, when they sung these 
ballads for the young as well as the old. 

Some prudish criticism occasionally clam- 
ors for a hearing and maintains that we are 
upholding lawlessness and robbery when we 
make a hero of an outlaw, but certainly a 
little study of the period and the character 
ought to destroy such a theory. 

The adventure is pure adventure; the 
spirit of justice, which is one of the founda- 
tion stones of our civilization, is a striking 
characteristic of these stories. The high 
ideals of womanhood, the spirit of helpful- 
ness to poor and needy, the resourcefulness, 
the humor, the willingness to give and take 
188 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

in the same open-handed way, the manliness 
in combat, all these qualities fit the stories for 
telling, for they are the virtues and stand- 
ards of life which these boys and girls can 
understand and approve. 

The ever engrossing activity pictured in 
these stories, the atmosphere of woods and 
out-of-doors which children love, the exhibi- 
tion of physical strength, the atmosphere of 
a fair fight are subjects which represent the 
normal interests of children. 

If we can add to the telling of the Robin 
Hood stories the reading of some of the bal- 
lads after the children know and love this 
hero, it will add much to the value of the 
story hour. 

There is no prose rendering of the bal- 
lads which seems to convey their spirit, both 
by reason of the quaintness of the language 
and the masterly handling of the material of 
the story, as perfectly as Howard Pyle's 
" Merry Adventures of Robin Hood." It is 
a pleasure to recommend this text as the best 
form for the story teller's use, and to sug- 
gest that he cannot do better than to become 
so familiar with the words of the author that 
189 



STORY TELLING 

many of them will become his own. If this 
edition is too expensive for the small library, 
a smaller one containing a portion of the 
stories has been issued under the title " Some 
Merry Adventures of Robin Hood." 

The stories here suggested are taken from 
the large edition: 

STORIES FROM THE BALLADS OF ROBIN HOOD 

How Robin Hood Became an Outlaw and how Little 
John Joined his Band 

Pyle. Merry Adventures of Robin Hood, pp. 1-10 
Robin Hood's Adventure with the Tinker 

Same, pp. 13-22 
The Sheriff's Shooting Match 

Same, pp. 25-33. (Shorten first two pages.) 
Robin Hood Saves Will Stutley's Life 

Same, pp. 34-44 
The Sherifl's Visit to Robin Hood 

Same, pp. 47-56 
Three Adventures of Robin Hood 

Same, pp. 79-112. (Condense.) 
Robin Hood and Allan a Dale 

Same, pp. 115-27 
Robin Hood and his Men Shoot before Queen Eleanor 

Same, pp. 219-34 
Robin Hood and Guy of Gisbourne 

Same, pp. 255-69 
Death of Robin Hood 

Same, pp. 289-96 

190 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

Roland 

The " Chanson de Roland " Is an epic set- 
tmg forth a single period in a great hero's 
life, instead of making a complete picture, 
and for that reason may be somewhat dis- 
appointing to some children who are devoted 
to an orderly development of their heroes' 
careers. The constant action and the mar- 
tial subject of the poem make it one which 
will appeal to the battle-loving age. The 
balance of the story will need changing for 
the purpose of story telling, as too great 
stress is laid on the events after the hero's 
death to make the story effective and in good 
proportion. 

It will not be necessary to try to make a 
connection between the characters of the 
story and their historical counterparts, but 
the first story may include a few sentences by 
way of characterization of Charlemagne, such 
as Baldwin gives in his " Story of Roland." 
For a text to be used as a basis for telling 
this story, I would recommend either Mar- 
shall's "Stories of Roland," in the " Told 
to the Children Series," or the story as given 
191 



STORY TELLING 

by Ragozin in the volume on " Frithjof and 
Roland." The divisions for the chapters in 
the first are more artistic and can be relied 
on more confidently for the places to break 
the stories in telling, and its phraseology is 
more careful and better suited to an oral 
presentation. 

The story divides itself easily into five, or 
at most six, parts, as follows: 

STORIES FROM THE CHANSON DE ROLAND 

The Councils of the Kings 

Marshall. Stories of Roland, pp. 1-19 
Ragozin. Frithjof and Roland, pp. 147-64 

Ganelon's Treason 
Marshall. Stories of Roland, pp. 20-37 
Ragozin. Frithjof and Roland, pp. 165-86 

The Battle and the Sounding of the Horn 
Marshall. Stories of Roland, pp. 38-61 
Ragozin. Frithjof and Roland, pp. 187-215 

The Death of Roland 

Marshall. Stories of Roland, pp. 62-80 
Ragozin. Frithjof and Roland, pp. 216-35 

Roland Avenged 

Marshall. Stories of Roland, pp. 81-105 
Ragozin. Frithjof and Roland, pp. 187-215 

Ganelon's Punishment 

Marshall. Stories of Roland, pp. 106-16 
Ragozin. Frithjof and Roland 

192 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

Baldwin, in his " Story of Roland," 
which is excellently rendered, has not at- 
tempted to confine himself to the " Chanson 
de Roland," but has gathered from various 
sources and nations the poems and tales 
which have Roland as their hero, and united 
them in one continuous story. It is not the 
epic, of course, but the sources of his ma- 
terial are classic, and the hero story which he 
has woven from the idealizations of many na- 
tions is a splendid one to tell, and in many 
ways more interesting because of the variety. 
The introduction of his two famous compan- 
ions, Oliver and Ogier the Dane, will give 
great pleasure and satisfaction to children, 
for their spirit is worthy of the great Ro- 
land. A cycle of stories from this collection 
of Baldwin's ca^ be arranged, and while it 
does not cover all the material of the book 
there is enough to rouse the curiosity of the 
child, and stimulate him to read the book for 
himself. 

STORIES OF ROLAND 

Roland's Boyhood 

Baldwin. Story of Roland, pp. 1-33 

193 



STORY TELLING 

Ogier the Dane 

Same, pp. 47-70 
Ogier and Roland Knighted 

Same, pp. 70-80 
How Ogier Won Horse and Sword 

Same, pp. 81-9G 
Roland's Arms 

Same, pp. 97-113 
A Roland for an Oliver 

Same, pp. 114-32 
Princess of Cathay 

Same, pp. 175-217 
How Ogier Refused a Kingdom 

Same, pp. 240-44 
How Roland Slew the Sea Monster 

Same, pp. 245-54 
A Contest for Durandal 

Same, pp. 317-28 
How Roland Became his Own Shadow 

Same, pp. 328-43; pp. 357-GO 
TJie Treachery of Ganelon and Roland's Death 

Same, pp. 383-400 

Very little is made of the episode which is 
the subject of the " Song of Roland " in this 
arrangement of stories, and many of the in- 
cidents are so connected with the romantic 
side of chivalry that if this cycle of stories 
is used it should be with seventh and eighth 
grades rather than with the younger children. 



194 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 



The Cid 

The great Spanish hero is a military hero, 
and the subject not only of two epics but of 
ballads besides. He appears as a very human 
hero with many human weaknesses, doubt- 
less the result of the fact that much of his 
history was recorded in epic form not long 
after his death, for he was a historical per- 
sonage as well as a literary hero. 

But in spite of his scheming, his desire to 
secure much of this world's goods for him- 
self, his wanton desertion of all but those of 
his own faith, he is the product of that time, 
a hero of the battle-field and of the day when 
" might makes right," and it was well to find 
a champion for. the right, strong and daring 
enough to make it might. 

Charles Sprague Smith says: 

" The Cid, a man not of princely birth, through the 
exercise of virtues which his time esteemed — courage 
and shrewdness — had won for himself from the Moors 
an independent principality. Legend will have begun 
to color and transform his exploits already during hi3 
lifetime. Some fifty years later he had become the 
favorite hero of popular songs. It is probable that 

195 



STORY TELLING 

these songs {cantares) were at first brief tales in rude 
metrical form; and that the epic poems, dating about 
1200, used them as sources. 

" The ' Poem of My Cid ' is probably the earliest 
monument of Spanish literature. It is also in our 
opinion the noblest expression, so far as characters 
are concerned, ... of the entire mediaeval folk epic 
of Europe. However, in its simplicity, its characters 
are drawn with clearness, firmness, and concision, pre- 
senting a variety true to nature. Tlie spirit which 
breathes in it is of a noble, well-rounded humanity, a 
fearless, gentle courage, a manly, modest self-reliance; 
an unswerving loyalty, simple trust toward country, 
king, kinsmen, and friends; a child-faith in God, 
* slightly tinged with superstition.' While based on 
history, for the Cid lived from about 1045 to 1099, 
this epic is yet largely legendary. ' The poem opens 
with the departure of the hero from Bivar and de- 
scribes his Moorish campaigns, culminating with hia 
conquest of Valencia.' " 

A second epic, called " The Chronicle of 
the Cid," of a later date, gives the main 
story of his life, but much of it is legendary 
and traditional. 

Southey has translated " The Poem of My 
Cid," " The Chronicle of the Cid," and the 
popular Ballads or Romances, and united 
them to form one story. It is this text which 
Mr. Calvin Dill Wilson has used as the basis 
of his book, " The Story of the Cid," the 
196 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

most complete version of the epic which has 
been prepared for children's use. 

It was my good fortune, when a child, to 
hear Mr. Smith tell the story of the Cid, the 
thrill and daring of whose spirit so fasci- 
nated me that it would seen an experience 
w^orth giving to every child. 

The text of Wilson's " Story of the Cid " 
is given as the one to be used for telling the 
story because it is practically the only one 
available; but it will require a good deal of 
skill on the part of the story teller to handle 
the material in a manner necessary for an 
artistic rendering of the epic, because of the 
multiplicity of incidents and the constant 
changes of central theme. 

As the epic is essentially military in char- 
acter, it is wise to minimize the feminine ele- 
ment whenever it appears, and keep the cycle 
one of battle-field adventures. 

STORIES OF THE CID 

How Rodrigo Avenged his Father and Saw a Leper 
Wilson. Story of the Cid, pp. 1-35 

(Make a short introduction giving explanation 
of political conditions in Spain and the claimants 
to the throne.) 

197 



STORY TELLING 

How Rodrigo was Knighted and Received the Name 
of "The Cid" 
Same, pp. 35-42 
Death of the King and Division of the Kingdom 
Same, pp. 43-71 

(Shorten the division of the Kingdom as much 
as possible and make more of the siege of Zamora 
and its results.) 
Banishment of the Cid 

Same, pp. 72-87 
The Cid's Successes in the Land of the Moors 

Same, pp. 88-99 
The Cid Returns to the Aid of the King 
Same, pp. 113-29 

(Condense Chapter IX into two or three sen- 
tences, giving the conditions of his return.) 
Siege and Capture of Valencia 

Same, pp. 131-66 
How the Cid Lived and Ruled in Valencia 

Same, pp. 166-92 
How the Cid Gave his Daughters in Marriage 

Same, pp. 208-18 
The Cowardice of his Sons-in-law and their Punish- 
ment 
Same, pp. 218-72. (Condense.) 
The Combat 

Same, pp. 278-86 
Death of the Cid and Honors Paid him 
Same, pp. 297-313 



198 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

Frithjof 

{Pronounced Free4i-of) 

Like the Robin Hood ballads, we cannot 
technically class the Frithjof Saga with epic 
literature; yet, like those ballads, the saga 
sprung from the heart of the people, and 
represents the Norse life before the introduc- 
tion of Christianity as truly as any epic. It 
has many of the characteristics of the epic 
in its national drawing, its central hero, its 
elements of unrest and craving for adventure ; 
and its race spirit is so strong that, when 
the Swedish national poet, Esaias Tegner, 
clothed it in poetic form, it made a place for 
itself at once almost as an epic of that coun- 
try. Longfellow has given us a translation 
of his work, M£Vgnusson and Morris a trans- 
lation of the saga, and both will do much to 
make the story teller feel in sympathy with 
the Icelandic atmosphere. 

The saga must be told with great care to 
preserve the marks of its origin, the feelings 
and customs of the land of its birth, and at 
the same time to emphasize the stirring ad- 
venture rather than the romance, for this is 
199 



STORY TELLING 

one of the hero stories where there is a 
heroine as well as a hero. 

The development of the hero's character, 
his devotion to his word, his loyalty to his 
friends, and his willingness to atone for the 
wrong of his youth, make him a worthy sub- 
ject for a great hero tale. 

Ragozin's " Frith j of " may be used as a 
text book for preparing the narrative, and 
an arrangement of eight stories will cover the 
ground of the saga. 

STORIES OF FRITHJOF 

Frithjof 8 Youth and Meeting with Ingeborg 
Ragozin, Frithjof, pp. 3-32 

(Condense Chapter I; in Chapter II, quote ad- 
vice of the King, " Graciousness becomes a king 
as flower-wreaths a shield; and a spring's mild 
breath opens the earth, which wintry frost but 
hardens. Choose one to trust, and look not for 
another; for what is known to three will soon 
be known to all." Also, advice of Thorsten, 
" Frithjof, turn thee from evil, bend thy will to 
what is good and noble, and do right. Thus wilt 
thou not have lived in vain." Bring out only 
striking characteristics of the heirlooms, p. 17, 
foot of pp. 18-19; omit pp. 20-22. Condense 
pp. 27-29 into two or three sentences and begin 
last paragraph p. 29, making a statement simply 
that he asked for her hand. ) 

200 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

King Ring 

Same, pp. 33-42 
The Departure 
Same, pp. 43-62 

(Touch very delicately on the scene in Balder'a 
grove; make strong point of his loyalty to his 
word : " I would not buy Valhalla's joys by a lie, 
certainly not those of earth.") 
The Open Seas 

Same, pp. 63-79 
Frithjof's Return 

Same, pp. 79-91 
Frithjof the Viking at King Ring's Court 
Same, pp. 92-110 

(Children will enjoy the Viking's Code, pp. 
95-6.) 
Frithjof's Test 

Same, pp. 108-21 
The Atonement 
Same, pp. 122-39 



The Odyssey 

The presentation of the Odyssey, as has 
already been suggested, will gain very much 
if it follows a course in Greek mythological 
stories. There may be some who will feel 
that it should also be preceded by the stories 
from the Iliad, but this does not seem neces- 
sary, at least in any detailed fashion. The 
Iliad requires the grasp of the mature mind 
201 



STORY TELLING 

to give it the unity which makes the story 
convincing, and its theme, warlike though it 
is, yet has a cause so outside the experience 
of children that they are confused by its 
intricacies, and their sympathies are divided 
between victor and vanquished. The devel- 
opment of the plot is too retarded, and the 
action too slow to arouse their enthusiasm 
for the epic as a whole. It would seem wiser 
to use it as a source for incidental stories, or 
not to consider it at all before the high 
school, except as a background for the story 
of Ulysses. James Baldwin has given a 
splendid introduction to the Odyssey in his 
" Story of the Golden Age," and it might be 
a very desirable thing under some conditions 
to tell a group of stories selected from that 
volume, before beginning the Odyssey. 

It is not difficult to see why this great 
story of adventure is so popular with the 
children who know it, for while the motive 
of Ulysses' return home gives continuity to 
the cycle, the adventures are very adaptable 
for short stories, and their grotesque and 
humorous character is exactly suited to the 
child's point of view. Ulysses, too, has qual- 
202 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

ities which mark him as the child's hero; 
his great strength itself is convincing, and, 
coupled with that, his activity, his readiness 
and ability to undertake and conquer any 
difficulty, his inventiveness and resourceful- 
ness, his daring and dexterity in battle or 
personal combat, his love of home, endear 
him to children's hearts. 

This is one of the places where we have 
such an excellent translation of the original 
in Professor George Herbert Palmer's " The 
Odyssey of Homer," that it seems almost 
unnecessary to suggest any adaptation for 
our purpose. There are several authors who 
have done very excellent work in preparing 
versions of the Odyssey for children's read- 
ing, but the new edition of Mr. Church's 
work, " The Odyssey for Boys and Girls," 
is on the whole the most satisfactory for the 
story teller. 

STORIES FROM THE ODYSSEY 

Adventures of Ulysses with the Cyclops 

Church. Odyssey for Boys and Girls, pp. 15-30 
(This gives in a few words of explanation the 
situation to the close of the Trojan War.) 
Paxmer. Odyssey of Homer, pp. 130-46 

203 



STORY TELLING 

The Adventure at the Home of the Winds and the 
Palace of Circe 

Church, pp. 33-45 

Palmer, pp. 147-64 
The Sirens and the Monsters Scylla and Charybdis 

Church, pp. 49-62 

Palmer, pp. 185-98 
What Happened in Ithaca and the Search for Ulysses 

Church, pp. 67-128. (Condense.) 

Palmer, pp. 1-71. (Condense.) 
An Island Prison and a Shipwreck 

Church, pp. 63, 131-41 

Palmer, pp. 72-87 
Ulysses Finds a Princess Washing Clothes 

Church, pp. 145-56 

Palmer, pp. 88-98 
Ulysses at the Court of Alcinous 

Church, pp. 159-76 

Palmer, pp. 99-128 
Ulysses' Welcome at Ithaca 

Church, pp. 179-211 

Palmer, pp. 199-262. (Condense.) 
Ulysses at Home 

Church, pp. 215-52. (Condense.) 

Palmer, pp. 262-327. (Condense.) 
Trial by Bow 

Church, pp. 255-77 

Palmer, pp. 328-57 
The End of a Hero's Adventures 

Church, pp. 281-308 

Palmer, pp. 358-87 



204 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

King Arthur 

The story of King Arthur has been told 
so many times and in so many languages that 
it can scarcely be said to belong to any 
nation exclusively, nor to represent the epic 
in its technical sense, yet no group of hero 
stories would be complete without it. Mal- 
ory's " Morte D'Arthur " is far too long to 
be covered in a single cycle of stories, and 
it is an illustration of material which can be 
told to bring out the side of adventure and 
battle, or the romance and ethical signifi- 
cance of chivalry, as Tennyson has done in 
" The Idyls of the King." 

The King Arthur story is difficult to han- 
dle because, while it bears the name of a sin- 
gle hero, it really embraces cycles of stories 
within a cycle, each with a hero who is for 
the time an absorbing interest. For this rea- 
son it would be well, perhaps, for the story 
teller, after a few stories concerning the es- 
tablishment of the Round Table, to choose 
the stories which concern some one hero, and 
tell a group about Launcelot, Percival, Mer- 
lin (who is a very fascinating character to 
205 



STORY TELLING 

most children), Tristram, or Galahad and 
the Grail story. 

There are a few stories which present 
single adventures of different knights, and 
these, with the incidents connected with Ar- 
thur's boyhood and the beginning of the 
Round Table, will serve to give a general idea 
of the character of the Morte D'Arthur as 
a whole. 

For such a purpose Macleod's " King 
Arthur and his Noble Knights " offers either 
a very good text for the story teller, or a 
book which is easily read by the children 
themselves. 

Radford's " King Arthur and his Knights " 
has an introductory chapter which is valuable 
because it gives a good picture of the condi- 
tions of chivalry, which ought to be familiar 
to the child before he can really enjoy the 
stories, and is a simple version of the story as 
well. 

If the story teller can obtain Sidney Lan- 
ier's " Boy's King Arthur," or Howard 
Pyle's three volumes, " King Arthur and 
his Knights," " The Champions of the 
Round Table," and " The Story of Launce- 
206 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

lot and his Companions," they will be a 
great help and inspiration, besides giving him 
very successfully the atmosphere of the 
original. 

The interest which the picture of Sir Gal- 
ahad by Watts and the series of paintings 
in the Boston Public Library of the Grail 
story have roused in many children as well 
as older people, creates a desire to know the 
continuous story of Sir Galahad and his 
quest for the Holy Grail; and such a series 
of stories may be taken from the book of 
Mary Blackwell Sterling, called " The Story 
of Sir Galahad." 

Perhaps no epic, if epic we call it, offers 
so great an opportunity to combine the 
charm of adventure with high ideals as do 
these King Artjiur stories. The standards 
set of loyalty, obedience, devotion to high 
causes, purity, strength, and courage which 
must always protect the weak and needy, 
manliness and justice, faithfulness to trust 
and to honor — these are virtues which are 
ideals for every boy and every girl as well 
as every man and woman. 

Mr. Howard Pyle has expressed the in- 
207 



STORY TELLING 

splration which this great work has for us 
all in his foreword to the *' Story of King 
Arthur." "For when, in pursuing this his- 
tory, I have come to consider the high nobil- 
ity of spirit that moved these excellent men 
to act as they did, I have felt that they have 
afforded such a perfect example of courage 
and humility that anyone might do exceed- 
ingly well to follow after their manner of 
behavior in such measure as he is able 
to do." 

"For I believe that King Arthur was the 
most honorable, gentle knight who ever lived 
in all the world. And those who were his 
fellows of the Round Table — taking him as 
their looking-glass of chivalry — made, al- 
together, such a company of noble knights 
that it is hardly to be supposed that their 
like will ever be seen again in this world. 
Wherefore it is that I have such extraordi- 
nary pleasure in beholding how those famous 
knights behaved whenever circumstances 
called upon them to perform their en- 
deavor." 



208 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 



KING ARTHUR 

How Arthur Became King and how he Won his Sword 

MACLEOD. King Arthur and his Noble Knights, pp. 
1-13, 21-30 

Radford. King Arthur and his Knights, pp. 11-25, 
29-34 
A Great Feast and a Great Battle 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 14-21 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 35-48 
The Marriage of Guinevere and King Arthur and the 
Founding of the Round Table 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 31-35 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 49-72 
King Arthur and Sir Accalon 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 35-55 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 142-52 
How King Arthur Fought with a Giant 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 55-63 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 152-59 
Sir Brune 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 171-92 
Sir Ivaine 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 99-119 
Sir Balin 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 120-30 
Sir Gareth the " Kitchen Boy " 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 101-43 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 73-98 
Adventure of Sir Geraint and the Fair Enid 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 131-41 

"■ 209 



STORY TELLING 

Sir Launcelot and his Friends 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 63-89, 96-101 

Eadford. King Arthur, pp. 199-212 
Sir Tristram 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 143-67 
How Sir Tristram Came to Camelot 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 168-78 
The Quest of the Holy Grail 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 292-354. (Divide 
into at least two stories.) 

Radfobd. King Arthur, pp. 243-59 
Death of King Arthur 

MACLEOD. King Arthur, pp. 368-83 

Radford. King Arthur, pp. 260-68 

There are many other selections which are 
perhaps equally good, but these concern 
themselves more with the activities of the 
knights, and so are of special interest as 
introductory stories for fifth, sixth, and even 
seventh grades. 

Many of the adventures of Tristram are 
full of the story of La Belle Iseult, many of 
those relating to Sir Launcelot have to do 
with Guinevere, such as " How Launcelot 
Saved the Queen," or they are very romantic 
in character, like that of " Launcelot and 
the Lily-maid of Astolat," and for that rea- 
son will be found to be vastly more accept- 
210 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

able to the older children. It has been my 
experience that the younger boys and girls 
rather resent the introduction of Vivien and 
Morgan le Fay into the stories, and prefer 
to skip the tales in which they figure. 

Leon Gautier's " Chivalry," translated by 
Henry Frith, will be very helpful to the 
story teller for the purpose of acquainting 
himself with the costumes, manners, and 
customs of the days of chivalry. The 
more familiar one is with armor, battlements, 
moats, and drawbridges, the easier it is to 
have a clear mental picture as one tells the 
story, and the easier it will be to make a 
vivid and realistic picture in the mind of the 
listener. 

As we made use of the ballads in the story- 
hour devoted to Robin Hood, so it would 
seem a happy thing to associate the poetry 
of Tennyson with these stories. This is not 
at all difficult to do, for the swing of the lines 
makes them seem almost like the beat of 
horses' hoofs, or the clang of armor. 

What boy or girl is there who will not 
delight to hear — 



211 



STORY TELLING 

" strike for the King and die ! And if thou diest, 
The King is king, and ever wills the highest, 
Clang battleaxe and clash brand! Let the King 
reign. 

The King will follow Christ, and we the King, 
In whom high God hath breathed a secret thing, 
Fall battleaxe, and flash brand! Let the King 
reign." 

I shall never forget the face of one lad 
who had learned what knighthood really 
meant in the conquest of himself, as he rose 
one day and told the story of the Round 
Table and closed by repeating the oath 
which the knights made. 

" To reverence the King, as if he were 
Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, 
To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, 
To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, 
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, 
To lead sweet lives in purest chastity." 



RUSTEM 

{Pronounced Roo-stem) 

One of the great advantages to be derived 
from an acquaintance with literature is the 
familiarity with places, the customs of the 
212 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

people, and their manner of expressing 
themselves which great books are sure to give. 
For this reason a child unconsciously gains 
more than the joy of the story from a read- 
ing of the Arabian Nights, and great care 
ought to be taken in the selection of the ver- 
sions of the classics which are given to chil- 
dren, to make sure that they preserve the 
atmosphere of the story as well as a merely 
accurate recital of the incidents of the plot. 

Some people tell a story, Norse or In- 
dian, Greek or Persian, with exactly the same 
style and use of language, and the result is 
a definite loss to the hearer. 

It is a great pity if a child is limited in 
his reading to the works of one nation, and 
is not allowed to become acquainted with a 
wide variety of literatures, and to feel the 
difference in the point of view of the Occi- 
dent and the Orient, the familiar character- 
istics of grotesqueness and strength in the 
literature of the North, the subtle humor and 
beauty of the German legends, the persistent 
note of tragedy in the stories of Japan, and 
so to possess himself of his literary inher- 
itance. 

213 



STORY TELLING 

It is fortunate that recently there have 
been published two books giving the great 
Persian epic Shah-Nameh in versions for 
children. One of them, " The Story of 
Rustem," by Elizabeth Renninger, is the 
outcome of her own use of the stories in a 
boys' club of the Bushwick Branch of the 
Brooklyn Public Library; and the other is 
E. M. Wilmot-Buxton's " Stories of Per- 
sian Heroes." Both books present the story 
in an admirable manner, but Miss Rennin- 
ger's conforms more nearly to the style and 
language of the Oriental story teller. Long 
descriptions and epithets keep one constantly 
in touch with the " feeling " which the orig- 
inal has ; and the conversation, with its 
compliment and inevitable flattery and cir- 
cuitous mode of expression, is a constant re- 
minder that the listener is in the East, where 
there is no haste and where a story must 
never be allowed to suffer by thoughtless 
condensation. 

The book as it stands will be rather long 
for the average time which can be given to 
a single cycle of stories, as there are twenty- 
two stories in all, but there is enough variety 
214 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

in the stories so that they would be interest- 
ing for two courses; and if they were used 
in this way the book as it stands is very well 
suited to the needs of the story teller. 

The stories which are directly connected 
with Rustem have been used with seventh and 
eighth grades, and with high school pupils, 
and I have found they were delighted with 
them. The detail and description which 
would be tiresome to younger children has a 
charm of its own for these older ones, but 
the stories as given in print will have to be 
condensed somewhat for telling, in almost 
every case. 

STORIES OF RUSTEM 

Rustem, the Wonder Child 

Renninger, Thfe Story of Rustem, pp. 83-94 
Rustem, the Young Warrior 

Same, pp. 95-119 
Seven Labors of Rustem 

Same, pp. 120-60. (Condense.) 
Rustem the Pehliva 

Same, pp. 161-74. (Omit Rustem's romance.) 
Sohrab the Youth 

Same, pp. 193-212. (Condense.) 
Wrath of Rustem 

Same, pp. 212-29 

215 



STORY TELLING 

Combat of Sohrab against Rustem 

Same, pp. 230-57 
How Rustem Trained Siawush and Avenged him 

Same, pp. 259-78 
Later Feats of Rustem 

Same, pp. 302-23 
Story of Isfendiyar 

Same, pp. 324-54 
Death of Rustem 

Same, pp. 355-61 

Beowulf 

{Pronounced Bd^-6~wulf) 

In the preface to the translation of the 
Volsunga Saga by Magnusson and Morris, 
these words are found : " May it no longer 
be said to our shame, that Americans, Ger- 
mans, and Englishmen hold in higher es- 
teem the story of Greek, Roman, or Persian 
conquerors, the deeds of alien people, than 
the heroism, the mythology, the poetic 
grandeur of our ancient Gothic forebears, 
whose language, fables, nursery-tales and 
minstrelsy are inseparable components of our 
literature, our laws, and our liberties." 

The great Anglo-Saxon epic Beowulf is 
one of the possessions which thus peculiarly 
216 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

belong to us, and which we cherish on this 
account, as well as because it has those 
wonderful qualities of freshness and action, 
unspoiled by the taint of complicated civiliza- 
tions. It gives to us just that sense of free- 
dom which we breathe in with such joy when 
we run away from the city on a spring morn- 
ing and find that the tonic of the air in 
crowded streets was after all but a poor im- 
itation of what it is under the trees of real 
country lanes. The hero who so willingly 
offers himself to rid a people of its demon 
enemy, whether symbolic as some claim, is 
one whose spirit should be cultivated in the 
Anglo-Saxon of this present day. 

It is so short that it is almost possible to 
tell it in a single story, but that requires a 
condensation which robs it of some of its 
picturesqueness and portrayal of life in 
those early days. The style of the original 
is very concise and should receive a little 
elaboration for a telling version. Marshall's 
" Stories of Beowulf," or Ragozin's " Sieg- 
fried and Beowulf," have been selected as 
the foundation for this series of stories. 



217 



STORY TELLING 

STORIES FROM BEOWULF 

Beowulf Comes to Daneland 

Ragozin. Siegfried and Beowulf, pp. 219-44: 

Marshall. Stories of Beowulf, pp. 1-33 
The Combat with Grendel 

Ragozin, pp. 244-59 

Marshall, pp. 35-46 
Grendel Avenged 

Ragozin, pp. 259-74 

Marshall, pp. 46-62 
Beowulf's Return to his Own Land 

Ragozin, pp. 275-93 

Marshall, pp. 63-75 
Beowulf's Victory and Death 

Ragozin, pp. 294-322. (Condense pp. 312-22 to a 
few sentences.) 

Marshall, pp. 76-114. (Condense pp. 103-14 to a 
few sentences.) 

Sigurd 

Last of all our epic tales to be considered 
are the Volsunga Saga of Iceland, and the 
Nibelungenlied of Germany. Very little has 
been done to give these great works to chil- 
dren, though many writers have concerned 
themselves with telling the story as Wagner 
composed it as a background for his music. 
He drew from the Icelandic and the German 
218 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

versions of the story, and made one in many 
ways quite his own ; Chapin in " The Story 
of the Rhinegold," Frost in the " Wagner 
Story Book," Barber in the " Wagner Op- 
era Stories," McSpadden in the " Stories 
from Wagner," and many others have given 
this story as Wagner told it; but that is 
neither the Saga nor the Nibelungenlied. 

It seems wise to know our hterature before 
we know our music story, since the latter 
really is indebted to the former, and is of a 
character to appeal to the adolescent rather 
than the child. Both the Wagner story and 
the Nibelungenlied are much better suited to 
the period which is marked by a beginning 
of the interest in romance, for they are lack- 
ing in the simpler, sterner qualities of the 
Norse story. 

The Volsunga Saga was composed prob- 
ably sometime during the twelfth century 
" from floating traditions, from songs which, 
now lost, were then known, at least in 
fragments, to the saga-man; and finally 
from songs, which, written down about that 
time are still existing " in the Elder Edda. 

Sparling says, in the introduction of the 
219 



STORY TELLING 

translation of the Volsunga Saga by Eirikr 
Magnusson and William Morris: 

" Every people find some one means of expression 
which more than all else suits their mood or powers, 
and this the Icelanders fovmd in the saga. This was 
the life of a hero told in prose^ but in set form, after 
a regular fashion that unconsciously complied with 
all epical requirements but that of verse — a simple 
plot, events in order of time, set phrases for even the 
shifting emotions or changeful fortune of a fight or 
a storm, and careful avoidance of digression, comment, 
or putting forward by the narrator of aught but the 
theme he has in hand; he himself is never seen. 

" In very truth the saga is a prose epic, and marked 
by every quality an epic should possess. Where the 
saga, as this one of the Volsungs, is founded upon the 
debris of songs and poems, even the very old tales of 
mythological heroes, of men quite removed from the 
personal knowledge of the narrator, yet the story is 
so inwound with the traditions of his race, is so much 
a part of his thought-life, that every actor in it has 
for him a real existence. At the feast or gathering, 
or by the fireside, as men made nets and women spun, 
these tales were told over; in their frequent repeti- 
tion, by men who believed them, though incident or 
sequence underwent no change, they would become 
closer knit, more coherent, and each an organic whole. 
Gradually they would take a regular and accepted 
form, which would ease the strain upon the reciter's 
memory and leave his mind free to adorn the story with 
fair devices, that again gave help in making it easier 
to remember, and these aided in its presentation." 

220 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

" Of all the stories kept in being by the saga-tellers 
and left for our delight, there is none that so epito- 
mises human experience; has within so much of na- 
ture and of life; so fully expresses the temper and 
genius of the Northern folk as that of the Volsungs 
and the Nibelungs, which has in varied shapes entered 
into the literature of many lands. In the beginning 
there is no doubt that the story belonged to the com- 
mon ancestral folk of all the Teutonic or Scando- 
Gothic peoples in the earliest days of their wander- 
ings. The oldest shape in which we have it is in the 
Eddaic poems, some of which date from unnumbered 
generations before the time to which most of them are 
ascribed, the time of the Viking kingdoms in the 
Western-Isles. Of the Eddaic songs only fragments 
now remain, but ere they perished there arose from 
them a saga," i. e., the Volsung Saga. " The so-called 
Anglo-Saxons brought part of the story to England 
in Beowulf, in which also appear some incidents that 
are again given in the Icelandic saga of Grettier the 
Strong. Most widely human is the form taken by 
the story in the hands of an unknown medieval Ger- 
man poet, who, from the broken ballads then surviv- 
ing, wrote the Nibelungenlied. 

"The whole of the earlier part of the story has 
disappeared, and though Siegfried (Sigurd) has slain 
a dragon, there is nothing to connect it with the fate 
that follows the treasure ; Andvari, the Volsungs, Faf- 
ner, and Regin are all forgotten; the mythological 
features have become faint, and the general air of 
the whole is that of mediaeval romance. The curse of 
Andvari, which in the saga is grimly real, working 
itself out with slow, sure steps that no form of god 
221 



STORY TELLING 

or man can turn aside, in the mediaeval poem is but 
mere scenic effect . . . that has no obvious relation 
to the working out of the plot, or fulfilment of their 
destiny by the different characters. Brynliild loses a 
great deal and is a poor creature when compared with 
herself in the saga; Grimheld and the fateful drink 
have gone . . . but Sigurd (Siegfried), the central 
figure, although he has lost by the omission of so 
much of his life, is, as before, the embodiment of all 
the virtues that were so dear to Northern hearts. 
Brave, strong, generous, dignified, and utterly truth- 
ful, he moves amid a tangle of tragic events, over- 
mastered by a mighty fate and in life or death is still 
a hero without stain or flaw." 

Certain it is that, though this story is 
marked by motives and passions of the time 
before Christianity had softened men's 
hearts, it presents to us a people valorous, 
liberty-loving, intellectual and civil, whose 
speech and laws and customs have influenced 
our own to a remarkable degree. 

If it seems desirable to give the story as 
the German people told it, a good text will 
be found in Ragozin's " Siegfried and Beo- 
wulf," but my own feeling is that the Norse 
version recommends itself much more to the 
story teller's art. 

The translation of the saga already re- 
ferred to is considered authoritative ; while a 
222 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

feeling has been expressed by some that when 
Morris rendered the saga into verse in his 
" Sigurd the Volsung," he lost much of the old 
Norse feehng and characteristics. Others of 
equally good discrimination claim that his own 
love for the original was his safeguard, and 
that he has reproduced the spirit and the fire 
of those rude old days in a marvellous manner. 
Sarah Bradish has in her turn retold this 
epic from the verse of Morris's " Sigurd the 
Volsung," in a small volume called " Old 
Norse Stories." The first half of the book 
is devoted to the Norse mythological stories, 
and she has made many quotations from the 
verse which may well be used in the stories 
as they are told. 

STORIES FRPM THE VOLSUNGA SAGA 

Sigmund Wins the Sword 

Bradish. Old Norse Stories, p. 122, and last para- 
graph, p. 129 
Visit to the Goths 
Same, pp. 129-36 
Sigmund and Sinfiotli 

Same, p. 138, last paragraph to 141 (The Mere- 
wolves) ; omit to last paragraph 143; continue to 
2d paragraph 147; omit from 147 to 154 (Death 
of Sigmund) ; continue 154 to 158 



STORY TELLING 

Death of Sigmund and Birth of Sigurd 

Same, pp. 158-67 
Regin's Story 

Same, pp. 168-77 
Forging of the Sword 

Same, pp. 178-88 
Brynhild 

Same, pp. 189-92 
Gudrun's Dreams 

Same, pp. 193-202 
Sigurd and the Nibelungs 

Same, pp. 203-14 
Wooing of Brynhild 

Same, pp. 210-22 
Death of Sigurd 

Same, pp. 223-34 

The books which have been given as those 
suited for use by the story teller have been 
recommended also with the thought that they 
will supply the demand of the children for 
something to read, which should follow a 
story-hour. 

The sequence in which these epics are to 
be presented has not been considered in the 
order in which they are here listed. What 
will be the fitting introduction to the classic 
hero tales will depend somewhat on the en- 
vironment where the stories are given, and 
also on the age of the children who listen, as 
224 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

well as the personal inclination of the story 
teller. It may be wise to use only one cycle, 
or it may be desirable to give several, pro- 
vided a sufficient time elapses between, so that 
the stories do not become confused. 

It is possible to group the epics according 
to subject, — the martial epic, the epic of ad- 
venture, the epic of romance, and so on ; but 
the importance of such grouping is in the 
fact that the children who are leaving their 
Indians and primitive life behind will be in- 
terested in the heroes who are warriors first 
and foremost ; who will be interested later in 
single adventure, and only at the last of the 
period will be inclined to consider the epic 
when the element of romance is evident to 
any degree. 

After what has been said it will hardly be 
necessary to remind the story teller that the 
child of the rural ^ community and small 
town is in many respects quite a different 
problem from the child of the great city, 
especially if the latter was but recently a 
foreigner ; and nationality will play a part in 
the instinctive appeal of certain stories with 
children whose inheritance they rightly are. 
225 



STORY TELLING 

LIST OF BOOKS SUGGESTED FOR THE STORY 
TELLER 

Andersen. Fairy Tales and Stories. 111. by Tegner. 
Century, $5.00 

Andersen. Fairy Tales. Tr. by Mrs, Lucas. Button, 
$2.50 

Andersen. Wonder Stories. Houghton, $1.00 

Baldwin. Fifty Famous Stories. American Book Co., 
$0.35 

Baldwin. Discovery of the Old Northwest. Ameri- 
can Book Co., $0.60 

Baldwin. Story of Roland. Scribner, $1.50 

Baldwin. Story of the Golden Age. Scribner, $1.50 

Bolton. Famous Leaders among Men. Crowell, 
$1.50 

Bolton. Lives of Poor Boys who Became Famous. 
Crowell, $1.50 

BouTET de Monvel. Joau of Arc. Century, $3.00 

Bradish. Old Norse Stories. American Book Co., 
$0.45 

Brooks. Historic Boys. Putnam, $1.50 

Brown. Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts. Hough- 
ton, $1.25 

Bryant. How to Tell Stories to Children. Houghton, 
$1.00 

Bryant. Stories to Tell to Children, Houghton, 
$1.00 

Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh. Annotated Cata- 
logue of Books Used in Home Libraries and Read- 
ing Clubs. $0.25 postpaid 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

Cabnegie Library of Pittsburgh. List of Good 
Stories to Tell to Children under Twelve Years 
of Age. $0.05 postpaid 
Church. Odyssey for Boys and Girls. Macmillan, 

$1.50 
Cooke, Nature Myths. Flanagan, $0.35 
Dasent. Popular Tales from the Norse. Putnam, 

$2.50 
Farmer. Boys' Book of Famous Rulers. Crowell, 

$1.50 
FoA. Boy Life of Napoleon. Lothrop, $L25 
Grimm. Fairy Tales. Tr. by Mrs. Lucas. 111. by 

Arthur Rackham. Lippincott, $L50 
Grimm. Household Stories. Tr. by Crane. Macmil- 
lan, $1.50 
GuEBBER. Story of the English. American Book Co., 

$0.65 
Hassler. Graded List of Stories for Reading Aloud. 

Public Library Commission of Indiana 
Hathaway. Napoleon the Little Corsican. Rand, 

$0.35 
Jacobs. Celtic Fairy Tales. Putnam, $1.25 
Jacobs. More Ce-ltic Fairy Tales. Putnam, $1.25 
Jacobs. English Fairy Tales. Putnam,' $1.25 
Jacobs. More English Fairy Tales. Putnam, $1.25 
Jacobs. Indian Fairy Tales. Putnam, $1.25 
JoHONNOT. Ten Great Events in History. American 

Book Co., $0.50 
Kipling. Jungle Books. 2 v. Century, ea. $1.50 
Krout. Alice's Visit to the Hawaiian Islands. Amer- 
ican Book Co., $0.45 
Lang, Andrew. Blue True Story Book. Longmans, 
$0.50 

227 



STORY TELLING 

Lang, Andbew. Crimson Fairy Book. Longmans, 

$1.60 
Lang, Andrew. True Story Book. Longmans, $2.00 
Lang, Jeanie. Story of General Gordon. Button, 

$0.50 
Lang, Jeanie. Story of Robert the Bruce. Dutton, 

$0.50 
Lang, L. B. Red Book of Heroes. Longmans, $1.60 
Lanier. Ed. Boy's King Arthur. Scribner, $2.00 
Lord. The Touch of Nature. American Unitarian As- 
sociation, $1.00 
MACLEOD. Book of King Arthur and His Noble 

Knights. Stokes, $1.50 
MACLEOD. Book of King Arthur, etc. Burt, $1.00 

(Inexpensive edition) 
McMuRRY. Pioneers of the Mississippi Valley. Pub- 
lic School Publishing Co., $0.50 
Marshall. Stories of Beowulf. Dutton, $0.50 
Marshall. Stories of Roland. Dutton, $0.50 
Marshall. Story of Napoleon. Dutton, $0.50 
Marshall. Story of William Tell. Dutton, $0.50 
OzAKi. Japanese Fairy Book. Dutton, $2.00 
Palmer. Tr. Odyssey of Homer. Houghton, $1.50 
Perry and Beebe. Four American Pioneers. Werner, 

$0.50 
Pyle. Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. Scribner, 

$3.00 
Pyle. Some Merry Adventures of Robin Hood. Scrib- 
ner, $0.50 (Condensed) 
Pyle. Story of King Arthur and his Knights. Scrib- 
ner, $2.50 
Pyle. Story of the Champions of the Round Table. 
Scribner, $2.50 



HOW TO USE THESE EPIC TALES 

Pyle, Story of Launcelot and his Companions. Scrib- 

ner, $2.50 
Radford. King Arthur and his Knights. Rand, 

$0.75. School ed., $0.50 
Ragozin. Frith j and Roland, Putnam, $1.50 
Ragozin. Siegfried and Beowulf. Putnam, $1.50 
Renningee. Story of Rustem. Scribner, $1.50 
Richards. Five Minute Stories. Estes, $1.25 
Roui^T-NixoN. Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy 

Tales. American Book Co., $0.40 
ScuDDER. Book of Legends. Houghton, $0.50 
ScuDDER. Children's Book. Houghton, $2.50 
Stedman. In God's Garden. Jacobs, $2.00 
Steeling. Story of Sir Galahad. Dutton, $1.50 
Stockton. Fanciful Tales. Scribner, 0.60 
The Story Hour: a magazine. 406 Fifth St., N. W., 

Washington, D. C, $1.00 per year 
Tappan. In the Days of Alfred the Great. Lee, $1.00 
Tappan. In the Days of William the Conqueror. 

Lee, $1.00 
Tappan. Ed. Children's Hour. 10 vols. Houghton, 

$17.50 
Upton. Ed. WilUam Tell. McClurg, $0.50 
Warren. Stories from English History. Heath, $0.65 
WiLLiSTON. Japanese Fairy Tales. Rand, $0.75 
Wilmot-Buxton. Stories of Persian Heroes. Crowell, 

$1.50 
Wilson. Story of the Cid for Young People. Lee, 

$1.25 



229 



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